


Just Go With It

by burymeonpluto



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Actor Character, Alternate Universe - College/University, Binge Drinking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lots of Minor Characters too, M/M, Nerds at Parties, Pining Roxas, Pining Sora, Recreational Drug Use, Slightly Self-Destructive Behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeonpluto/pseuds/burymeonpluto
Summary: University is a place for meeting new people, and watching old friends turn into strangers. Sora is doing his best to bail the water out of a sinking ship, but with Riku continuing to poke holes into it, he's starting to lose his patience. Love can be a stone tied around your neck. It'll drag you down to the bottom. And maybe some things are better left abandoned.





	1. 27

 

 _Chapter 1)_ _27_  
  
[I’ve got a lot of friends who are stars,  
But some are just black holes.]  
  
  
  
  
‘Okay. I’m outside’  
  
Sora sends the text message from the stoop, adjusting the drawstring bag full of video games over his shoulder. The door latch clicks a few seconds later.  
  
Riku speaks beneath his breath as soon as he cracks open the door. He’s not wearing a shirt and smells vaguely of whiskey. “Hey. Thanks for the help.”  
  
“Wait—help?” Sora finds himself whispering too. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Come on, there’s no time. Just go with it.”  
  
“Go with _what_?”  
  
“Plan 27.”  
  
Sora tilts his head. #27: Jilted Lover. “Really? _Again_?”  
  
“I know, I know. But it works every time.”  
  
“I thought we were going to hang out today,” Sora whines.  
  
“We will,” he presses. “We’ll do whatever you want later, okay? Just help me out. Please.”  
  
Sora sighs and runs a hand down his face. There’s a long pause. A deep breath. When he glances back up, he’s looking at Riku with the absolute fiercest glare he can muster. Sora shoves him through the doorway and slaps him clean across the face.  
  
Huh. Maybe those acting classes are amounting to something after all.  
  
“What the _hell_ are you doing!?” Sora shouts.  
  
Riku scrambles backwards. “Sora, calm down—”  
  
“Don’t you dare, Riku. Don’t you _fucking dare_.” There it is, the voice crack. He’s getting better at that one. “I can’t believe you. I’m gone for _two days_ , and you pull this? Seriously? You think I _don’t know_ that there’s a stranger cowering in the kitchen?!” Pause to let it land…. And... “I thought we’d moved past this, ya know. I actually fucking thought that you _cared_ about me—about _us_.” He buries his face in his hands, forcing the ache down his throat and wrapping it tight around his heart. _Pull_. “I thought—you— … I really wanted to make this work...” Moisture seeps between fingers. Tears. Perfect. “Why do I keep doing this to myself?”  
  
Riku’s hands curl over his shoulders. “Sora, it _can_ work. We just… No, _I_ just have to do better. I’m sorry. We can work this out. Give me another chance.”  
  
“How many more chances will it take?” Sora spits, wiping the tears from his face that just keep coming. “How many have I already given you? _Huh_? Do you even know how many times I’ve _already forgiven you_?”  
  
His mouth opens, but no words come out.  
  
Sora reacts in an instant—swatting his hands away. “No. Don’t answer. I don’t care. I’m done. _We’re done_.”  
  
“Sora, wait—”  
  
But he ignores it. He storms upstairs into the bedroom and starts loudly opening drawers, slamming closet doors, and throwing non-fragile items into the wall. A huge, noisy display for whomever is still downstairs. By the time Sora’s finished, almost every item of clothing Riku owns has been tossed into a pile on the bed.  
  
And when Riku finally arrives upstairs a few minutes later, Sora is sprawled out on top of that pile, 3DS in hand, and in the middle of a PokeMon battle.  
  
“Did it work?” Sora asks.  
  
“Yeah.” He leans against the doorframe. “You’re getting really good at that one. Those tears looked so real.”  
  
He just shrugs. “Thanks.”  
  
Riku watches him for a second or two. Sora is content to just lay there and play video games. He hears Riku smirk. “This is all you wanted, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“But did you have to throw out _all_ of my clothes?”  
  
“I thought you wanted authenticity.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs.  
  
It was also a lot of fun, but Riku doesn’t need to know that. “How are finals looking for you?”  
  
“Tiring,” he grumbles. “How about you?”  
  
Sora shrugs easily, fingers tapping away at the device in his hands. This battle’s not so hard. “Same, I guess. I’ve got two presentations I still need to finish.”  
  
“That should be easy for a performer like you.”  
  
“You think so?” Maybe that’s true. He’s really not sure. But Sora’s never been one for stage fright, either. “Why don’t you go wash away your hangover? I can wait. We’ll grab lunch.”  
  
“What makes you think I’m hungover?” he counters with some kind of smug smirk. That’s clearly overcompensating.  
  
Sora rolls his eyes. “Please. I’ve known you long enough. I could wear your skin like a suit and pretend to be you.”  
  
“I guess it has been a while,” he chuckles. “I don’t even remember meeting you.”  
  
“From the cradle to the grave.” He grins without glancing up from his game. “Now go wash up. You stink.”  
  
Riku takes a discarded shirt from the floor and slings it at Sora’s head.  
  
  
.  
  
  
A few hours later, Sora fiddles with the straw of his coffee smoothie, idly poking holes into the mountain of whipped cream on top. “Anything new?”  
  
Roxas shakes his head. “Not really.” He has a sip of hot coffee, laced with plenty of sugar. “You?”  
  
“No.”  
  
They do this every Saturday afternoon. He and his cousin Roxas meet at the same campus coffee shop, complain about the same problems, vow to do something about them, and then never actually do anything.  
  
Roxas sneers. “Nothing ever changes, huh?”  
  
“That’s not true,” Sora argues. “Remember when we first started coming here? I would always get the ice cream shake. Now I actually order coffee.”  
  
“That’s not coffee, it’s a frappe. They don’t put real coffee in those.”  
  
Sora sticks out his tongue and takes an indignant pull of his drink. “It’s still progress.”  
  
“That’s not the kind of change I’m talking about,” Roxas groans.  
  
“Okay then… you go first.”  
  
“Not on your life.”  
  
Sora rolls his eyes. “Then don’t complain.” Roxas makes a face and has another sip of coffee. Sora leans forward. “Are you _ever_ going to tell him?”  
  
“Are _you_?” he counters.  
  
Sora just barely stumbles over that one. “Sure, I’ll confess to Axel for you. I’ll bring balloons and everything.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”  
  
Sora sighs into his smoothie. “Yeah, I know...”  
  
“Besides,” Roxas mutters, “he’s still dating Larxene.”  
  
“It’s pretty strained, though.”  
  
“But they’re still _dating_.”  
  
Sora shrugs. They’ve had this conversation a thousand times. “Whatever you say.”  
  
Roxas leans back in his chair. “So, what about you? Are you ever going to tell him?” Sora only tightens his grip around the cold smoothie cup. “Or are you just going to pretend to date him every time he needs help getting a one-night-stand out of his apartment?”  
  
Sora buries his face in his hands. “What else am I supposed to do?”  
  
“I say you forget about that jerk.” Sora doesn’t respond to that. Roxas has to change his tone. “Or… tell him how you feel already and _maybe_ he’ll feel so bad for treating you like shit that he’ll take a vow of celibacy.”  
  
He laughs through his nose. “Right.” Wouldn’t that be nice?  
  
They sit there in silence for a while. Sora twirls the straw between his fingers. He has nothing left to say.  
  
Roxas takes a slow drink of coffee. “Man, we’re pathetic.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sora chuckles. “I think so too.”  
  
  
.  
  
  
Finals week passes like a storm in slow-motion. The end of sophomore year. By the time Roxas emerges on the other side, he’s sitting in his favourite cafe on a Thursday afternoon, waiting for his sweetened, black coffee to cool. He watches the steam rising over the lip of the paper cup with stinging eyes. It’s too hot to drink, but at this point, Roxas is considering sacrificing the edge of his tongue for the instant caffeine boost.  
  
He takes a look around the cafe to pass the dragging minutes. It’s pretty empty for early afternoon. Why is he even awake this early? What did he have to do again? He’ll have to look at his schedule to remember. But coffee first. Always coffee first.  
  
There’s someone sitting two tables over that catches his eye. Roxas is sure he’s never seen the guy before, but that doesn’t stop him from being unnervingly familiar.  
  
He looks just like Sora. His hair is black instead of brown, but the resemblance is undeniable. There’s a leather jacket draped over the back of his chair, and a bored expression painted onto his face. He’s drumming his fingers on the tabletop as he sips on something hot.  
  
Roxas can hardly believe what he’s seeing. All the red and black… It’s like Sora just stepped out of a heavy metal music video.  
  
Then the guy looks at him, golden eyes gleaming in the artificial light. “See something you like, Blondie?”  
  
Damn. He’s been caught. Roxas shakes his head feverishly. “No, it’s just— Sorry. You look a lot like my cousin.”  
  
A thoughtful look passes over him, and he leans onto the table. “Theatre kid? Always walking around with a dopey smile on his face?”  
  
“You know him?”  
  
“I’ve heard of him,” he corrects. “When you have a stunt double walking around, people tend to talk about it.”  
  
Roxas nods. “Yeah, I guess that’s true…”  
  
The black-haired guy swirls his coffee. “Thankfully, I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”  
  
“So… are you an alum?”  
  
“You got it,” he points.  
  
“What are you doing here, then?”  
  
He shrugs. “Just some business. And then I have to put an idiot in their place. Teach a few lessons. Restore some order around here.” A strange smile forms on his face. “It’s going to be a fun weekend.”  
  
“Sounds like it,” Roxas nods, and has a sip of his own coffee. It’s still too hot. “I’m Roxas, by the way.”  
  
He keeps his cup tilted to his lips. It’s empty when he taps it on the table. “Vanitas,” he says, and pulls the jacket from the back of his chair. He throws it over his shoulder and gets to his feet. “Well then. Maybe I’ll see ya around, Blondie.”  
  
Roxas narrows his eyes. “I _just_ told you my name.”  
  
Vanitas looks unusually pleased with that response. “Roxas, then.”  
  
  
.  
  
  
Early afternoon is the best time to make the walk of shame across the bar parking lot. But maybe “shame” is too strong of a word. It certainly isn’t the first time Riku has ventured to retrieve his abandoned belongings from the night before. It probably won’t be the last, either.  
  
Inside, the bartender gives him that look. That amused, pitying expression. Judgmental prick. Yesterday was the last day of final exams. Of course there was a huge party. Riku would like to tell him to shove it and return his wallet already, but he holds his tongue. Getting worked up would only bring back his hangover headache. It took all morning and three sports drinks to get rid of it the first time. When the bartender returns with his things, he jokingly asks if Riku wants another drink.  
  
He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. “No, thanks.”  
  
The bartender only smirks.  
  
And another voice chimes from beside him: “Your stamina is still terrible, huh?”  
  
Riku turns to glare at whoever it is, but he recognizes that voice. He can’t control his face. The person next to him has spiky black hair and menacing yellow eyes. “Vanitas.” Oh. There’s the hangover headache again. Great.  
  
Vanitas’s grin is wicked as he leans onto the bar. “Giving up after one night? How dull. You haven’t changed.”  
  
Fuck. His head is pounding now. What is Vanitas even doing here? Didn’t he graduate a year ago? He must’ve just finished his first year of law school. And every time Riku remembers that Vanitas is studying law, he’s horrified all over again. But he can’t deny that it suits him. Riku feels his headache stomping on his skull with full-force, so he glances towards the bartender, “On second thought, I think I’ll have that drink.”  
  
Vanitas laughs under his breath. “Impressionable.”  
  
Riku glares at him in silence. He really didn’t expect to see Vanitas again. And now that he’s here, Riku remembers how strange it is. Vanitas and Sora look a lot alike, but they couldn’t be more different. Even the crazy, spiky shape of their hair is the same. There’s never any confusion around them, though. If the black colour and golden eyes aren’t enough, Vanitas’s villainous smile will quickly differentiate them. Not to mention, Sora’s hair is a little more… unruly. Vanitas’s almost looks deliberate. But anyone that’s ever woken up next to him can tell you: if there’s any product in that mane, all it does is smooth the edges.  
  
The bartender returns with a drink, and Riku takes a quick pull to bury the fact that he knows that.  
  
Vanitas is casually perusing the beer list, entirely unbothered by the dirty looks and scrutiny.  
  
Sometimes Riku thinks that Vanitas’s hair is only spiked up because he needs to hide the horns. “What are you doing here?” he grumbles.  
  
A shrug rolls from his shoulders. “Business, mostly. Not that it’s any of your concern.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?”  
  
“It’s a lyceum for the pre-law students or some shit,” he says without looking up from the beer list.  
  
Riku laughs through is nose. “And they asked _you_?”  
  
“Yeah, I was shocked too,” Vanitas mutters. “Until I remembered that I was at the top of my class, you _peon_.”  
  
Oh. “Right.” He keeps forgetting that. But it’s hard to keep in mind when he’s seen Vanitas do countless unspeakable things. Things he’d rather not think about ever again.  
  
“You’d do well to remember that I’m smarter than you,” he smirks, and waves the bartender over.  
  
Riku only nods. “Noted.”  
  
“I’ll have whatever he’s having.”  
  
Riku takes another gulp of his drink. It tastes sour going down. It’s hard to keep a straight face. Vanitas takes a sip of his own, identical beverage without so much as a grimace. Really, what is he doing here?  
  
Vanitas doesn’t just drop in without a good reason. Whether he’s in town or not, why is he _here_? At this pub? At four in the afternoon? Riku narrows his eyes suspiciously. What does he _want_?  
  
That smirk is condescending. It foreshadows nothing but bad things. Riku doesn’t need his judgment. He doesn’t need anything from him.  
  
His phone vibrates against his leg, and he fishes it from his pocket like a safety line. Maybe it’ll give him enough time to think of an escape plan.  
  
He checks the buzzing screen. It’s Sora.  
  
Yes. This is perfect. “I’ve got to take this.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Riku waits, but Vantias doesn’t move. “It’s a personal call.”  
  
He merely shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me.”  
  
Great. Of course it doesn’t. Riku walks away from the bar to answer. “Sora—”  
  
“You’ll never guess what happened!” His voice excitedly blurts through the speaker. Riku doesn’t even have a chance to sound confused before he keeps going: “Do you remember that video game we played all the time when we were kids? Way back. Like in junior high?”  
  
Vaguely. “The Disney one?”  
  
“Yeah! Roxas just sent me a news article about it. They’ve _finally_ picked a release date for the sequel! A real date! And there’s a trailer. With gameplay footage. And it looks so awesome. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life. It’s actually _real_!”  
  
Riku tilts his head. “Wasn’t there already a sequel?”  
  
“That was a prequel!” Sora corrects. “Hey… did you ever finish it? I lent it to you forever ago.”  
  
Shit. He hasn’t. “I think so?”  
  
Sora huffs like he isn’t impressed.  
  
“Forget about that for a second—”  
  
“How could I forget?” he interrupts again. “I’m so excited, I think I’m shaking.”  
  
“Sora, just listen. I need you to meet me somewhere. I’ll send you the address.”  
  
“Huh?” And he’s suddenly quiet. “Why?”  
  
“I need your help with something.”  
  
“But I’m already on my way to hang out with Roxas.”  
  
“This will only take ten minutes. C’mon. Help me out.”  
  
On the other end of the line, Sora sighs. “Fine. I’ll be right there.”  
  
“You’re the best.”  
  
He doesn’t respond. He only ends the call.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Sora has to turn completely around. The address is almost on the other side of campus. It’s a pub. At four in the afternoon? He leans forward and hits his head against the steering wheel so hard that the car softly honks. What has he gotten himself into now?  
  
Whatever. He’s already agreed, so he heads inside. Riku practically flees from his seat as soon as Sora shows up. He was sitting next to a guy with black hair that—Sora stops in his tracks. What the heck? That guy looks just like him! What’s going on? Is this a bad dream?  
  
Riku is smiling as he walks up. Why does that make Sora so nervous? He chances another glance at the bar. The dark-haired guy isn’t looking at them. Sora shifts uneasily on his feet. “Everything okay?”  
  
Riku stands close in front of him. “Plan 16.”  
  
“Eh?” #16 is… The Happy Couple. “Seriously?”  
  
“This shouldn’t take long.”  
  
“Is this some kind of prank?”  
  
His hands find Sora’s shoulders, and squeeze reassuringly. “It’s not. Just go with it.”  
  
Sora can only sigh. Here we go again. He lets Riku lead him towards the bar. There’s already a drink waiting for him. Lemonade, if he had to guess.  
  
The black-haired guy—Vanitas, he discovers—looks him up and down. He seems pretty amused by something. His gaze cuts back to Riku. “This?” he snorts. “This little… turtledove? You expect me to believe that?”  
  
Sora narrows his eyes. What’s that supposed to mean?  
  
“Believe what you want,” Riku mutters. “Doesn’t matter to me.”  
  
“You sure about that?” he challenges. “Because I think you’re full of shit. There’s no way this pastry of a kid is with you.” _Oh_ , Sora thinks, he doesn’t believe the act. Already? A wicked smirk pulls on Vanitas’s lips. “No way in hell. This milquetoast pipsqueak? You’d snap him in half.”  
  
Sora doesn’t want to know what that means. Who the hell _is_ this guy?  
  
Riku shakes his head. “Whatever you say.”  
  
Vanitas leans forward, and suddenly Sora finds himself staring into a pair of gleaming yellow eyes. “Tell me, have you fucked him yet?” Sora almost chokes on his drink, cheeks turning hot. He’s never heard it asked so straightforwardly before.  
  
“That’s none of your business,” Riku warns.  
  
“Oh, his face is all the answer I need,” Vanitas practically cackles. “I mean, look at him. He’s so tense.” He gives Sora another hard look, and then a wink. Sora winces. “Should we break him in?”  
  
“You’re not going to touch him.”  
  
He hums like he’s terribly unimpressed. “That’s fine. I doubt you’re going to touch him, either.”  
  
Sora’s jaw goes slack. “I thought you said he was a friend of yours,” he murmurs.  
  
“No,” Riku corrects without looking at him. “He’s not a friend. I just know him.”  
  
“Intimately,” Vanitas adds.  
  
“Don’t say it like that.”  
  
“Oh, yes, of course,” and he makes full eye contact with Sora. “We have engaged in wild, crippling sex on several occasions. Sometimes it was even _good_. Is that better?”  
  
Riku’s glass claps onto the bar. “What the hell is wrong with you?”  
  
“I’m rather enjoying the spectacle of your ‘boyfriend’s’ facial expressions,” Vanitas grins. “He’s as red as his shirt.”  
  
Sora’s fingers tighten around his own glass. His brain has all but shut off—otherwise, he’s sure it would be riddled with strange, embarrassing images by now. “C-crippling, huh?” is all he can say.  
  
“Aw, he’s precious,” Vanitas mocks, leaning onto the bar and sending Sora and his drink a critical glance. “Is that a mocktail?” he laughs. “Adorable.”  
  
Riku shrugs. “He’s not old enough.”  
  
“Never stopped _you_ ,” he scoffs, and has a gulp of his own drink.  
  
“And I wonder who’s to blame for that.”  
  
There’s that wicked smile again. “Guilty. Ya got me.” That explains where Riku got his fake ID when they were still freshmen.  
  
Sora swirls his drink with his straw, and tries his best to direct the conversation away from himself. He glances at Vanitas. “So… are you a student around here?”  
  
“Not anymore.”  
  
An alum, then. That’s a little surprising. Sora didn’t peg him as being that much older. “What do you do now?”  
  
“Law school,” he responds simply. Sora can believe it. Somehow. “And on the side, I do business with Old-Money attorneys with useless, snot-nosed kids that can’t get past the admissions test. So I go in and take it in their place.”  
  
Sora blinks slowly at him. That sounds incredibly illegal.  
  
Vanitas gives him a look. “I’m joking, turtledove.”  
  
He tries to laugh. It doesn’t work very well. Riku only rolls his eyes.  
  
But then Vanitas smirks. “Or maybe I’m not. You’d be surprised how easy it is to get a fake ID.”  
  
“Y-you don’t say?”  
  
“That’s another very lucrative market, by the way. I hope you’re taking notes.”  
  
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Sora nods. This guy is a lunatic.  
  
Vanitas is grinning like he can hear Sora’s thoughts, but he doesn’t respond.  
  
Riku scoffs into his glass. “Don’t even humor him, Sora. He’ll just try to drag you down to his level.”  
  
“One does not _unwillingly_ fall from such grace,” Vanitas counters. Riku doesn’t answer. Golden eyes turn to the clock mounted behind the bar, and he clicks his tongue. “Fuck. It’s that late?” And he takes the rest of his drink in one go. There’s not even a ripple of discomfort over his face as the alcohol slides down. He stamps the glass onto the bar in front of Riku, eyes passing smoothly between him and Sora. “Let me know when you decide to defile your little turtledove,” he winks. “I want a piece.”  
  
“Stop calling me that,” Sora mutters, since Riku opted to not honor him with a response.  
  
His laugh is menacing. “Try and stop me.” Sora only glares at him. Vanitas turns and leaves, waving over his shoulder.  
  
The two of them sit in the silence of the mid-afternoon pub for a long time.  
  
“I don’t think I like him,” Sora states.  
  
“Yeah, me either,” Riku mutters. “He’s the worst.”  
  
He sends his friend another sidelong glance, and vaguely gestures to the glass in his hand. “You know that it’s barely four-thirty, right?”  
  
“I only ordered it after Vanitas showed up. I knew I’d need a buffer to deal with him.” He’s got that kind of effect, huh? “Besides. Hair of the dog.”  
  
“Huh… Does that really work?”  
  
Riku downs what’s left in his glass and clearly grimaces. “No.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“It didn’t make Vanitas’s company any more bearable, either.”  
  
“Yeah…” Sora sighs. Is that putting it mildly? But he’s only just met the guy. Still, he seems… unpleasant. A mascot for all the roads better left untravelled. “Well, it looks like the act didn’t work on him… It’s probably my fault. I wasn’t prepared for someone like him. He saw right through me.”  
  
Riku shakes his head. “You were fine. He’s just… highly critical.”  
  
“I guess that’s a good trait for an attorney.”  
  
“Right,” he scoffs. “He was treating you like you were on the witness stand. You shouldn’t have to prove anything to him.” A scowl darkens his face. It looks like he’s thinking hard about something. Then he turns and meets Sora’s eyes. “Let’s get back at him.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Think about it. He’s so smug, it never crosses his mind that he’s wrong. He was laughing at us the whole time… Doesn’t it piss you off?”  
  
“Well, I mean… I don’t really mind—”  
  
“So we’re going to prove him wrong.”  
  
“We’re doing what now?”  
  
“Dating,” he says, and Sora’s mouth drops open. Riku holds up a hand. “Hear me out. He’s only going to be in town a few days. So all we have to do is put on the act. Plan 16. We can pull that off. Easy.”  
  
“I—uh—”  
  
“Don’t you think so?”  
  
Sora rubs at the back of his neck. Where are his words? “I don’t know…”  
  
“It’s just for a few days,” he pushes, “and only in public. We have to make a point.”  
  
Sora sighs. All of this work? For that dark, scary guy that sneered at everything Sora said? Why is he so important, anyway? And didn’t Riku _just_ say that they shouldn’t have to prove anything to him? What happened to that?  
  
“It’s not like we’ve never done this act before,” Riku interrupts his thoughts. “What do you say?”  
  
Sora looks him in the eyes. It’s important to him. Sora can’t say no. He curses his own weakness, and bows his head. “Alright, fine,” he sighs. “I’m gonna need some background information first…”  
  
  
.  
  
  
Roxas sits at his desk with his face buried in his hands. “You agreed to _what_?”  
  
Sora smiles sheepishly. “It’s only for a few days.”  
  
“What kind of harebrained scheme is this supposed to be?”  
  
“It’ll be _fine_.”  
  
Roxas waves his hands around. “No, it won’t! Riku is an idiot for thinking of this plan, and you’re an even bigger idiot for agreeing to go along with it!”  
  
“C’mon,” Sora laughs. “I just consider it practice at this point.”  
  
“Sora, I know you’re desperate for his attention—but this is ridiculous.”  
  
He reels back a little. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Seriously? You only go along with all of his bullshit because it’s the only time you ever get to see him.” He waits for an answer that never comes. “Right?”  
  
“N-not really,” Sora stumbles.  
  
“Oh come _on_ , Sora,” Roxas groans. “When was the last time you two were together _just_ to hang out?”  
  
He thinks hard about it for a long time. He honestly can’t remember. “It’s been a while.”  
  
Roxas spreads his arms. “Exactly!”  
  
Sora sits down on the edge of the bed, silently studying the scuff marks on the floor. He can’t argue against that.  
  
Roxas dials it back. “Listen to me: this can only end badly. You’re going to get hurt.”  
  
“You don’t know that, though.”  
  
“I kinda _do_.”  
  
“Just let me pretend, okay?” Sora mutters. “I already decided that after this, I wasn’t going to enable him anymore.”  
  
Roxas sighs in defeat. “Well, at least it’s progress.”  
  
But it’s not the kind of progress Sora wanted. Not at all.  
  
  
.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is. I wanted to wait until the entire fic was complete before posting it, but I just can’t wait any longer! It’s like 85% finished by this point, anyway.  
> This premise was originally thrown at my face by my roommate, who watches way too many K-dramas. So consider yourselves warned, I guess? This is gonna get wild. Also, it’s kind of refreshing to see pining!Sora, amirite?
> 
> Let’s see… I need to set up some things. For this fic, every chapter title is actually a song title, with a snippet of said song’s lyrics at the beginning of the chapter. Why? /shrug/ It’s some dumb thematic thing I thought was cool. For example: Today’s chapter title is brought to you by Fall Out Boy, “27.” A song from their true pop-punk days. The song as a whole fits some of the themes and ideas of this fic a little too well.
> 
> Anyway… I don’t have much else to say at this point… It’s only chapter one, after all. Uh… Yes, the line in the summary is a reference to Chekhov's 'The Cherry Orchard.' I'm a shameless puppet for drama. So, then... That's it, I guess? Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe—no that’s the wrong platform you idiot. Fuck. Well.
> 
> Do whatever you want. Comments are nice~


	2. Every Day is a Struggle

_  
Chapter 2) Every Day is a Struggle  
  
_ [I love you so damn much, I’ll even start to pray,  
I’ll put my faith in all your bullshit if it means you’ll stay.]  
  
  
  
Sora leaves Roxas’s place the next morning with a brand-new nervous twisting in his stomach. It’s only a short drive to Riku’s from here. They need to meet up and work on the details of the plan. The Happy Couple Act. Sora is still sure that this is a horrible idea. But here he is, going along with it anyway. Just like he always does.  
  
Whatever. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He’s done this act before. Lots of times. All he has to do is prolong it, right? He hopes his stamina is up for it.  
  
He parks his car near Riku’s flat. The too-large, too-empty duplex that only feels that way since Riku’s previous housemate left to study abroad a few months ago. Sora only met him a handful of times. Kind of broody, and from some old, important family. The kind of family with an heirloom sword, which Sora thought was awesome, but the guy seemed nice enough.  
  
Sora turns off the engine just as his phone rings, and he pulls the noisy device from his pocket. It’s Kairi. That’s unexpected. But he can’t ignore it. She’s one of his best friends. The girl he was crazy about in junior high… even if their cute, adolescent infatuation never amounted to anything. Maybe they were too young to notice how shallow those feelings were. But they’re still so close. Even through the distance of separate universities.  
  
So he puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Kai—”  
  
“ _Sora_ ,” she barks over him, “what do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Oh, boy. The scolding tone. He hasn’t heard that in a while. A year, at least. “What do you mean?”  
  
“You know very well what I mean.”  
  
He waits for her to continue. She doesn’t. There’s really only one thing that could get her to call him out of the blue like this. She must know about the act with Riku. Of course. She always calls him out when he’s being stupid. She never holds back. Sora sighs into the phone. “Roxas told you, didn’t he?”  
  
“Are you _crazy_?” she hisses. “This is a terrible idea!”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“But you’re still doing it.” It’s not even a question. She already knows.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
She groans, “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Sora?”  
  
“Kairi…”  
  
“You keep letting him take you for granted. I know you love him, but you have to take care of yourself too.” Her voice rings softly through the speaker. Pleading.  
  
“But I love you, too,” he deflects.  
  
She sees right through it, and scoffs so loudly. “Not like you love Riku. We’ve been over this… You fell so hard, I still can’t believe it took you so long to notice.” That’s true. She pretty much had to spell it out for him junior year of high school. Denial is a strong, invisible force. “And you mean so much to me, so I can’t stand watching you go through this over and over…”  
  
He drops his head low, wisps of memories floating in the shadows. “I know, Kairi. I’m sorry.”  
  
“I told you last year, remember? He’s heading down a dark path. You might have to do something drastic if you want to pull him back. But enabling him like this isn’t what I had in mind.”  
  
“I know,” he says again. His throat is aching. “But I’ve decided that this will be the last time. If something doesn’t change… I’ll have to give up.”  
  
“Sora,” she sounds surprised, or like she might start crying. “I’m so sorry… What are you going to do?”  
  
“I’ve got plans.” His smile tastes horrible on his lips. “Getting a little distance won’t be so hard.”  
  
“You mean it?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“Good,” she breathes. He imagines her soft smile. Her concerned blue stare like murky water. “That makes me feel a little better. I worry about you, ya know. You goof.”  
  
“Gimme a break, Kairi,” Sora laughs. “You know how hard it is for me to give up on anything.”  
  
She just rolled her eyes. He can feel it through the phone somehow. “Yeah, it’s your character flaw.”  
  
“I’ll take it. Could be worse.”  
  
“Right,” she giggles. “Take care, okay? I’ll call next week to check up on you. We’ll plan something.”  
  
“Sounds great.”  
  
Kairi says her goodbyes and hangs up. He hates making her worry. He hates the feeling. But she’ll always worry about him. Especially if he keeps pulling dumb stunts like this… This can’t be healthy. He stares down at the empty phone screen and takes a calming breath. He has to brace himself for this. This act is going to take everything he has.  
  
He almost laughs. Since when did meeting up with his best friend require so much endurance?  
  
Sora slings an overnight bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the house. The door is already unlocked. He lets himself in. “Riku?” he calls. The main floor is deserted.  
  
“Up here!” Riku’s voice comes from upstairs, and Sora follows it to the bedroom. He reaches the doorway just as Riku pulls a clean shirt down over his head. There’s a half-finished mug of coffee sitting on the nearby nightstand, along with an open bottle of ibuprofen.  
  
Sora tosses his bag near the foot of the bed. The sheets have been changed since the last time he was up here. All of the clothes from last week’s charade have been picked up as well. “How long have you been up?”  
  
“Not long.” He reaches for the coffee mug and has a careful sip. Sora sees the steam rising before his face. “Are you ready for this?”  
  
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”  
  
Riku only laughs through his nose. “It’ll be fine. You’ll be great.”  
  
“If you say so,” he shrugs. He’s not so sure. He already knows this is a bad idea. But it’s too late for him to back out now. Not that he ever _would_ , anyway. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Have you thought about the backstory? Good acting is all in the legwork.”  
  
“Especially if we’re going to convince someone like Vanitas,” he muses. “We need to be on the same page.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Riku watches him from over the rim of the coffee mug. “So, what do you need to know?”  
  
An idea-tossing party, huh? Sora lays back on the bed and squints at the overhead light. He pulls an arm up over his eyes to block it out. “Okay, so for this act, we’ve been dating for… three months?” That’s a sentence he never thought he’d hear coming out of his own mouth.   
  
“Right,” he confirms swiftly. “But we haven’t slept together.”  
  
“R-right.”  
  
“Everything up to it, though.”  
  
“Huh!?” he chokes.  
  
“Come on, Sora. Who’s gonna believe in a couple that’s dated for three months but never even kissed?”  
  
He props himself up on an elbow. “Well—I mean… We don’t…”  
  
“Besides, it’s not like you’ve _never_ kissed anyone.”  
  
There’s no response. He only bites down on his lip.  
  
“Sora?”  
  
He flops back down and turns away from him. “I don’t need you to tease me.”  
  
“I’m not teasing you.” The mattress dips as Riku sits down. “Not even on stage?”  
  
“It’s called a stage kiss,” he mutters.  
  
“But— what about… At that graduation party, Kairi was plastered and throwing herself at you.”  
  
“She missed,” he grimaces at the memory. She was just drunk enough to want to prove how much she cares, and Sora had just finished lamenting that he’d never kissed anyone before. It wasn’t even romantic. “Besides, I wasn’t going to accept it from her like that. It didn’t feel right.”  
  
The silence is maddening. It’s almost unbearable.  
  
Riku shifts closer. “Is there anyone you have in mind?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I’ll make it happen.”  
  
“What…?” No. He can’t. What kind of offer is that? He shakes his head. “Can’t we just say that I don’t like PDA?”  
  
“Sora.”  
  
“I don’t _want_ anything, Riku. It’s not a big deal.”  
  
“It’s not, huh?” he huffs. Sora yelps as he suddenly climbs over him, knees on either side, and stares down with the most intense expression on his face.  
  
Sora can’t even breathe. Riku is only a few inches above him. What is—? Huh?  
  
Riku smirks at him. “You’re tense.”  
  
“Of course I am!” he splutters. “What’re you—?”  
  
“I hate to say it, but Vanitas is right.” What the heck does _that_ mean? “Your flustered face is pretty funny.”  
  
Sora laughs like a cough. “Gee, thanks. I thought you said you weren’t teasing me. Now get off.” Lips gently touch his cheek, and he instantly covers the spot with both hands. Whatever he decides to yell is muffled behind fingers. Heat rises full-force in his face.  
  
Riku bursts out laughing. “It’s kinda cute.”  
  
Sora talks through his hands, demanding to be understood. “ _Screw you_.”  
  
His gaze turns thoughtful. “I guess you never were a very touchy person.”  
  
“Exactly!” He doesn’t remove his hands as he mutters, “I’m not even in character.”  
  
Riku leans closer. “Huh?”  
  
He says it again, louder this time, but still muffled behind his hands.  
  
Riku doesn’t move. “I can’t understand you.”  
  
With a groan, Sora pries his hands from his mouth. “I said: I’m not even in— _augh_!” he gives an undignified shriek as those lips make contact with his cheek and second time. Riku starts laughing again. Sora’s hands have already clamped back down. “ _Knock it off_!”  
  
“Alright, I’m sorry,” he says, though Sora doubts it. He’s still grinning. “But it _is_ cute.”  
  
“It’s mean,” he spits, ignoring the warmth that spreads through his chest at the compliment. Is it even a compliment?  
  
Wait. Who cares? The real question is: Why is he still on top of him?  
  
“Are you going to get off me soon?” Sora grumbles.  
  
“Let’s see...We’ll compromise.” And there he goes, totally ignoring Sora’s protests. “Only on the cheek, but you have to teach me how to do that stage kiss you mentioned earlier. Deal?”  
  
He nods in defeat. “Fine. That works.” A few seconds pass, but there’s still no movement. A new idea dawns on him: “Ya know, I can teach you a few stage slaps too. If you want. I’ll even give you a live demonstration right now.”  
  
Riku just smirks, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his own cheek. “No, thanks. The last one still hurts.”  
  
“Good,” he snaps. “Now _get_ _off_!” And he shoves Riku hard in the shoulder. Riku just laughs as he finally backs off. Sora can feel the mortifying heat radiating off of his own face. What a jerk. That was totally uncalled for. His heart is pounding like mad against his chest. Why is Sora certain that he’s going to remember and relive all of that for weeks to come? That everything that just happened will creep into his mind late at night, when he’s almost asleep, like some kind of embarrassing pseudo-dream?  
  
Sora’s phone starts ringing from his pocket again. Oh, thank god. A distraction. He fishes it out and reads the screen:  
  
It’s Axel—his cousin Roxas’s best friend and object of affection; with his crazy girlfriend and stoner musician friends and intense, yet well-hidden, nerdy obsessions. Even his ringtone is some 8-bit version of a video game theme song. How did that even get onto Sora’s phone? He doesn’t remember setting that… Well, whatever. He goes to answer the call and is immediately bombarded with: “ _Sora, guess what_?”  
  
“Axel?”  
  
“Of course it’s me, ya dink. Who else could it be? I set a personalized ringtone on your phone.” Well, that explains that. “But you gotta get down to the comic shop. Right now.”  
  
“Now?” Sora echoes. Riku gives him a questioning look from across the room. “What for?”  
  
“It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”  
  
“Axel, what’s going on?”  
  
“Do you remember that awesome figure I told you about? The really expensive one?”  
  
“The Persona one?” He seems to remember Axel showing him an online listing for a figurine of a video game character. It lit up like a nightlight and had all the bells and whistles. It was worth hundreds of dollars.  
  
“They have it!” he shouts. “It was only released in Japan last week, but they _have it_. These madmen!”  
  
“Whoa.” As nerdy and boring as it sounds, Sora would actually like to see this fabled figure in person. He’s certainly heard Axel go on about it for weeks now. He wonders if it’s really worth all the hype. “Is it as beautiful as you imagined?”  
  
Axel laughs into the phone. “It’s all of that and more.”  
  
At least he isn’t disappointed. “I’m sure I’ll see it later.”  
  
“No, you need to come down here now and experience it with me!”  
  
“I can’t today. I’m hanging out with Riku.”  
  
It’s sounds like Axel just hissed through his teeth. “Oh, right. I remember. Roxy told me about that.”  
  
Of course he did. Roxas has been airing Sora’s business to everyone, it seems. “Right… So, can I get a rain check?”  
  
“I guess,” he grumbles. “Don’t do anything too reckless in the meantime, okay?”  
  
“Me?” Sora laughs. “Never.”  
  
“I’m just saying. I hang out with Riku sometimes, but we don’t exactly roll with the same crowd, ya know?”  
  
“Yeah. Same here.” He says it with only a touch of bitterness. “It wasn’t always like that, though.”  
  
“So you keep saying.”  
  
“I get the feeling that you don’t believe me.”  
  
“Oh, I believe you. It’s just… well, I get to listen to Roxas bitch about it 24/7, so I guess my opinions have become a little skewed. You get me?”  
  
Sora can’t help but laugh. “That sounds about right.”  
  
“Okay then,” he suddenly declares, “I’ll see you later. I’m gonna hold you to this promise! You will experience this figure! I will drag you to the comic shop if I have to. Don’t test me, Sora! I will do it!”  
  
“Okay, okay. I get it. I promise.”  
  
“Good. I’ll see you then.” Axel hangs up before he can respond. Typical. Sora pockets the phone.  
  
Riku finishes his coffee in the ensuing silence. “What did Axel want?”  
  
“Nothing important,” he says. Riku wouldn’t be impressed or interested in his and Axel’s conversation. If he would even understand it at all.  
  
But he does accept Sora’s response, and leaves it at that.   
  
Funny. He accepts everything but Sora’s doubts. And now Sora sits here, unable to say no to this crazy idea of his. Another wave of dread washes over him. Are they really going to go through with this? He takes a deep breath. This is the point of no return, isn’t it? He might as well take advantage of it. “Are you sure about this?” he blurts from his spot on the edge of the bed. “This is our last chance to back out. Once we start, turning back will be… difficult.”  
  
Riku only scoffs. “You make it sound like we’re going to rob a bank or something. It’s not _that_ serious.”  
  
“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a lot of work. This isn’t like a scripted performance. Almost anything could happen. I want to make sure you’re okay with that.”   
  
“It’ll be fine,” he insists again. “Whatever happens, it’s just acting, right?”  
  
Sora can’t stop himself: “It’s only acting if there’s an audience. Otherwise, it’s just lying.”  
  
“What about rehearsals?”  
  
“You don’t rehearse improv,” he grumbles.   
  
Riku isn’t deterred though. He’s still giving him that look. “Aren’t you the one that said ‘Good acting is all in the legwork’?”  
  
Of course he’d throw that back at him. Sora really isn’t in the mood to argue against himself, so he hunches over in defeat and buries his face in his hands. “Right.”  
  
The pause is short. Sora hears a shift before fingertips gently brush along the base of his neck. He does his best to not tense up again. “Where’d you get that?”  
  
Oh, right. Sora remembers the scar on his upper back. The lopsided diamond that discolors his skin. His own fingers absently pass over the mark at the mention of it. “That? It’s from October. We were striking the set from a show, and Leon dropped a metal frame from one of the stage lights. It hit me corner-first.”  
  
“Wow. Sounds painful.”  
  
Sora shrugs. “It looks worse than it is. I didn’t even get out of strike. The professor slapped a bandage on me and put me back to work.” Riku seems mildly concerned by that answer. Sora shrugs a second time. “You can only get out of strike if you’re dead.”  
  
That does it. The seriousness melts from his face. “If you say so,” he laughs, and pulls a jacket from the knob of the closet door. “C’mon, we can finish talking about the details over lunch.”  
  
Sora easily gets to his feet, stretching his arms high above his head. “Sure. I’m starving. You have a place in mind?”  
  
“Of course,” he grins. “But you might want to bring a jacket or something. This place is notoriously cold.”  
  
That’s fine, he thinks. His spare jacket should be in the backseat—no. Wait. That’s not right. The last place he had it… “I left it in the theatre,” he admits.  
  
Riku gives him a look. “The main stage?”  
  
He shakes his head. “Small one.”  
  
“We can stop on the way. It’s no big deal.”   
  
  
.  
  
  
They arrive at a tiny, nondescript building on the older parts of campus. It’s a single-storey, repurposed box with windows that have been painted black from the inside. Weird.  
  
As soon as Sora takes one step through the door, multiple voices shout his name in unison. “Sora!”  
  
“I’m not here. Don’t mind me,” he laughs, and hurries through some curtains.  
  
This is definitely a theatre space, but not any kind of stage Riku has ever seen before. It’s bare right now, so it looks even smaller than it is. Everything has been painted black, and there are chairs on three sides, right up to the stage floor. The entire space smells of sawdust and fresh paint.  
  
The door shuts behind him, and the ones that were shouting Sora’s name are now staring at him in shock.  
  
There’s a guy in camouflage pants sitting precariously atop a ladder with a wrench in his hand. Stage lights surround his head in a halo. “You… you’re Riku, aren’t you?”  
  
As if today couldn’t get any weirder. “Yeah?”  
  
The guy raises both arms into the air, accidentally knocking against one of the lights. “Holy shit!” He doesn’t seem to mind it.  
  
Another guy pipes up from the back corner: “The legend!” Riku glances over at him. He’s a heavier kid in a jersey standing on an equipment-filled loft.  
  
Riku narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Ladder boy chuckles. “Dude, I was starting to think that you weren’t real!”  
  
“Sora does seem like the type to have an imaginary friend,” says the boy on the loft. He hits a few buttons and the stage lights begin to glow. “How’s that?”  
  
Ladder boy looks down at the floor, where the light creates a pool. “Up it to 25.”  
  
A few clicks. The light glows brighter. “Done.”  
  
Riku glares up at the boy on the ladder. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I’m just sayin’,” he shrugs, carefully tilting the light back, “Sora talks about you all the time, but none of us have ever seen you. We thought you were imaginary. The girls tease him about it a lot. He says you’re always busy. It’s highly suspect.”  
  
Oh. Well, that’s… Riku doesn’t have anything to say to that. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
“So, it’s nice to finally meet you! I’m Hayner. Pence is the one in the booth.”  
  
Pence waves from his spot in the loft—or booth. “Heya.”  
  
“The girls are organizing the dressing rooms right now,” Hayner continues. “They’re Naminé and Olette.”  
  
“Wait! Hold it there!” Pence suddenly calls. Hayner stops adjusting the light. “That looks good.”  
  
“Roger!” and he tightens the bolt on the light with his wrench. “What did Sora drop in for, anyway?”  
  
Riku shrugs. “Said he left his jacket.”  
  
“So he went to the back?” A strange grin breaks across his face. “With the girls?”  
  
Pence chuckles into his hand. “Oh, man. Rest in pieces.”  
  
As if on cue, Sora comes fighting through the curtains with his jacket in-hand and a pair of girls hot on his heels. “Not right now! I told you!”  
  
The brunette girl whines. “Come _on…_ It won’t take long. We promise! Right, Nami?” The blonde one giggles softly. Her companion takes it as an agreement. “This shade is too dark for Naminé. What else are we supposed to do with it?”  
  
“How am I supposed to know?” Sora scowls. It isn’t very threatening.  
  
She puts a hand on her hip. “Maybe if you would _help_ with the showcase tonight, we could—”  
  
“Nope,” he interrupts. “Can’t do it.”  
  
Hayner laughs from his perch. “Are they trying to doll you up again, Sora?”  
  
Again? Riku glances at Sora, who has suddenly, and suspiciously, clammed up.  
  
The blonde girl, presumably Naminé, clasps her hands behind her back. “There’s a new contour technique I want to try. I was hoping to use it in the showcase, but…”  
  
Which makes the brunette girl Olette. She waves a finger in Sora’s face. “Someone’s being uncooperative.”  
  
“I _told_ you. I’m busy,” Sora grumbles. “I’m not even _in_ the showcase!”  
  
Pence pipes up from the booth: “You didn’t seem to mind it last time.”  
  
“Not helping!”  
  
“Last time?” Riku smirks. He can’t keep quiet anymore.  
  
“Last year’s showcase had a few historically-accurate Shakespearean scenes,” Hayner explains, still chuckling to himself. “Which means _all_ the parts were played by guys. And Sora lost a bet.” He groans at the mention of it. Hayner ignores him. “Naminé does incredible work. We barely recognized him.”  
  
“Yeah, we had no idea Sora was so pretty,” Pence adds.   
  
Naminé smiles sweetly. “The wig helped a lot.”  
  
Sora has since thrown his jacket over his head. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”  
  
“You were a wonderful Olivia,” she gently touches his arm. She’s completely genuine, not teasing at all. “And Cloud’s Desdemona was very striking. Remember?”  
  
He makes some sort of incomprehensible noise from beneath his jacket.  
  
Riku is still laughing under his breath. “I’m sorry I missed it.”  
  
Pence fiddles with one of the contraptions in the booth, and the lights dim back down. “They’ve been using Sora as a human mannequin ever since.”  
  
“And,” Olette chimes in again, yanking Sora’s jacket off of his head. He’s pouting. “This shading kit matches his skin tone perfectly. We can’t just waste it.”  
  
“I disagree,” Sora mumbles.  
  
“I dunno, Sora. It sounds pretty important,” Riku jests, and Sora looks at him with the most pitiful, pleading face. The girls perk up excitedly. He can barely keep his grin under control. “I’m kidding,” and he grabs one of Sora’s arms and pulls him behind him. “Sorry, I’ve already claimed him for the next few days. He’ll have to take a rain check.”  
  
Naminé and Olette groan together.  
  
Sora takes the opportunity immediately: “Yep! Maybe next time! See ya!” He practically drags Riku back outside before anyone can argue.  
  
The door clacks shut behind them, and Sora scurries through the parking lot with him still in-tow. What’s the rush? “Easy,” Riku laughs, slowing up a bit. “They’re not chasing you or anything.”  
  
Sora quickly releases his arm, like he just realized he was still holding onto it. His pace drops considerably, along with his volume: “Thanks.”  
  
For what? Giving him an excuse to leave? “I didn’t know you were so into dress-up.”  
  
“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “I’m a theatre major that spends his free time reading comics and playing video games. Of course I like dressing up…”  
  
“Like comic book characters?”  
  
He shrugs a shoulder. “Sometimes.” A soft smile comes over his face. They’re pleasant memories. “Actually… a few months ago, there was an event across town… a convention, ya know… and Olette and I entered the costume contest.”  
  
Really? He had no idea. “Did you win?”  
  
“Second place,” he smiles. “So, do you think we…” then he stops himself, shaking his head. “No, never mind.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s stupid.”  
  
“What is?”  
  
“I was… going to invite you to come with us next time, but you wouldn’t want to go to something like that. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
Hold on. What the hell does that mean? And why is he offended by it? “Why wouldn’t I want to go?”  
  
Sora shrugs again. “I dunno. It’s just… whenever I invite you to one of Naminé’s costume parties, you always say no. So I just thought that you wouldn’t be interested.”  
  
Is that true? Riku can’t remember. Still, Sora’s even given up on inviting him. What’s with that?  
  
It kind of bothers him. Since when did Sora have hobbies he didn’t know about? They used to do everything together. They were a unit. If one of them showed up, the other was sure to follow.  
  
This is all wrong. It’s been a while since they’ve done anything fun together, hasn’t it? Mismatched schedules and whatever else…  
  
“I’ll go next time,” he decides.  
  
Sora noticeably perks up. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. And our costumes will be amazing. The best.”  
  
It looks like he’s trying to not bounce up and down. “You bet!”  
  
They spend the drive to the restaurant tossing costume ideas back and forth. It’s sort of nostalgic. Riku remembers when they were still kids, and they would play on the beach for hours on-end. Make-believe was always Sora’s strong suit. Whether they were playing pirates or superheroes, he could construct an entire world around them in minutes. It wasn’t just a trifle, either. It was necessary. He’d let his imagination run wild. He still does.  
  
Riku watches him speak animatedly from the passenger’s seat. He’s really getting into the details now, talking about props and reference images… Riku chuckles to himself. Sora hasn’t changed at all.  
  
  
.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any non-tech theatre kid, no matter their gender, says that they’ve never been onstage in a dress, they’re either a freshman or a goddamn liar.
> 
> But seriously you guys. Seriously. The idea of Cloud playing Desdemona is quite possibly the greatest idea I’ve ever idea’d. (Does that mean Sephiroth is Iago? I think so.) Huh. There’s a lot of theatre in this chapter… but this is as dense as it gets, I promise.
> 
> Well! Kairi, Axel, and the Theatre Geeks got their introductions this chapter! Fun times. And today’s chapter title is brought to you by: Senses Fail, “Every Day is a Struggle.” Genre: Some variant of metal/hardcore I dunno man I just listen to it. People get too worked up over compartmentalizing music. Especially when it comes to sub-genres of rock.
> 
> /Cough/ Never mind that, though! I thought that I’d better get this chapter out before I’m blown away by a hurricane. If this is my last post on AO3, let it be known that my only regret is that I didn’t live to see KH3 actually drop. Also Spyro: Reignited. So… two regrets. Yeah.


	3. Slow Burn

_Chapter 3) Slow Burn_  
  
[I know that it’s killing me,  
And it’s poisoning the best of me.]  
  
  
  
  
Sora has certainly never been here before. He didn’t even know this place existed. According to the sign out front, it’s a local restaurant and distillery.  
  
What do distilleries make again? Moonshine?  
  
“Anything, really,” Riku corrects with a stifled laugh. “But this one specializes in whiskey.”  
  
Sora’s expression is flat. It’s still alcohol.  
  
Riku grins like he can read Sora’s thoughts. “The food is great. Trust me.”  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
There aren’t many people inside at this time of day. It must be the start of lunch service. Only two employees are weaving easily between the high-top tables and decorated bar. One of them calls a greeting over their shoulder and says they can sit anywhere they’d like. They pick one of the high tables near the bar and get settled in.  
  
The bartender is a bespectacled man with well-styled hair and noticeable accent who knows Riku by name. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he asks if they want to sample anything.  
  
Hold up. Sora is still too young to buy alcohol. There’s no way Riku _forgot_ that.  
  
But he speaks up before Sora can say anything: “We’re just here for lunch today, Ignis.”  
  
The man proudly smirks and adjusts his glasses. “That can be arranged. I’ll fetch a list of today’s specials.” And Ignis disappears into the kitchen through a swinging chrome door.  
  
Sora sends Riku a sharp, questioning stare.  
  
He shrugs a single shoulder. “My roommate told me about this place. He and Ignis go way back.”  
  
“Oh.” Well, that’s a relief. Sora banishes the thoughts from his mind. He was thinking the worst. But really, is it ever a good thing when the bartender knows you by name? This isn’t a sitcom.  
  
Riku scoffs, snapping Sora’s attention back. “What’s that look for?”  
  
“Huh?” He has no idea what kind of face he’s making. “It’s nothing.”  
  
Riku looks like he doesn’t believe him.  
  
Sora slowly puts on his jacket to avoid that gaze. One thing is for sure, it’s frigid in the dining room.  
  
Ignis returns before Riku can question Sora further. Perfect. He presents them with the menu and two glasses of ice water. The menu is… different. There are lots of things Sora has never tried before. Where does he even start? Thankfully, Ignis has no problem talking about the daily specials at length. He somehow convinces them to order after only a few minutes. There are so many words flying around that, by the time Ignis retreats to the kitchen, Sora can barely remember what he just ordered.  
  
But judging from the smells wafting over from the other tables, he shouldn’t be disappointed. He shrugs it off and has a sip of water, as cold as the air in this restaurant. He’ll trust in Riku’s taste for this one. It’ll be fine.  
  
But really. Is it _that_ weird of a situation? Neither of them know s what to talk about… It’s not like there isn’t a lot to catch up on, but…   
  
Riku watches him quietly from across the table. It’s just barely noticeable, but Sora is swaying back and forth. Is he doing it on purpose? No, wait… He’s kicking his feet beneath the table, isn’t he? Because they don’t reach the floor? Riku can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up. How cute.  
  
Sora notices that laugh and tilts his head. “What?”  
  
“It’s nothing.”  
  
“Yeah, right,” Sora shoots it down immediately. Figures. He leans onto the tabletop with that scrutinizing look on his face. “What’s so funny?”  
  
So he’s not going to let it go, huh? Riku puts on his best grin. “You are.”  
  
Sora visibly falters. “Eh?”  
  
He reaches across the table—reaches for that dumbstruck hand. “Thanks again—for helping me out.”  
  
Sora tenses and reclaims his hand. He’s not even trying, is he? “Sure.”  
  
Riku leans in. “C’mon. I thought you were an actor.”  
  
Sora grumbles beneath his breath: “Yeah, I just wish I knew who I was acting _for…_ ” Then he shuts his eyes, and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s expelling his very self. It’s like flicking a switch. Instantly, his irritation fades away, and he grabs ahold of Riku’s hand.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
A soft smile comes over Sora’s face. The most natural thing in the world. “For what?”  
  
Man. He’s good.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
  
.  
  
  
Friday is spent calmly planning. Building the backstory. Fleshing out the lie. Dinner is not nearly as awkward as lunch, but that could be because Riku treated him to his favourite Vietnamese street-food, and Sora was too excited about that to pay attention to any awkwardness. Is it even awkward at all? It’s almost like old times. Just the two of them… with nothing catastrophic hanging over their heads. It’s nice.  
  
But Saturday is the big one. The house party. And Sora wonders once again what he’s gotten himself into.  
  
That evening, he stands in the main room of Riku’s flat, finishing off a bottle of water. It’s almost time. It’s already getting dark outside. Luckily, their destination is within walking distance—just a few blocks away. But that also means that neither of them have to worry about driving. Sora’s still not sure if that’s a good thing.  
  
Riku comes downstairs just as Sora’s crushing the empty bottle in his fist. “Ready to go?”  
  
“Yeah.” He tosses the garbage into a nearby bin. “Let’s go.”  
  
Only, Riku doesn’t move. He pauses at the foot of the stairs, studying Sora with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
He steps close and pokes Sora’s forehead. “You’ve had that look on your face since yesterday. What is it?”  
  
He didn’t even realize he was making a face. Is it really so obvious? Sora sighs to the floor. He can read Riku’s expressions like a map. It’s only fair for it to work both ways. Speaking of which, that concerned stare Riku is giving him is definitely real. He can’t just brush it off.   
  
“I’m just… tired, I guess.” It’s not a whole lie—but it’s not the truth either.  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Of course, Riku doesn’t believe it for a second.  
  
“I’m tired of _this_ ,” he clarifies, gesturing between them. “I feel like we’re only doing this to make that guy jealous. The one from the bar. I don’t like it.”  
  
“What? No way. That’s not it. He’s the worst, remember?” Oh, he remembers. “He’s a narcissist. He thinks he’s always right. He says there’s no way we could be dating.”  
  
“Well, he _is_ right.”  
  
“He doesn’t have to know that,” he counters. “Besides, after the way he spoke to you, he’s asking for it.”  
  
Sora shrugs. “I really don’t care what he thinks of me.”  But Riku apparently does. Sora can’t imagine why. He shakes his head. “But I guess I already agreed to this…”  
  
“It’ll be fine. You’ve been great so far.” That smile. That damn smile. It’s almost enough to make Sora forget everything else. “You’re always great.”  
  
Sora would like to curse him for that, but he wants to curse himself even more. Curse his weakness. Curse the stupid grin that sprouts onto his face from such a simple compliment. “Thanks,” is all that comes out of his mouth.  
  
“So let’s go. Otherwise, all of our planning will be for nothing.”  
  
Those words are like a riptide. Sora is pulled back in. “Sure.”   
  
That’s all it takes. They head for the house party like it’s their typical Saturday night. Streetlights flicker to life before them to light their way. To where, Sora doesn’t know. Their destination becomes obvious the farther they walk, and they find the sounds of dull, thumping bass and countless people milling about.  
  
The house is an older two-storey, just off from the main parts of campus. It’s been restructured as student housing where tenants can rent a single room. It’s similar to Sora’s current arrangement, only older, grittier, and closer to the action.  
  
Well, judging from all the people clearly packed in and around the place, it’s more like the center of the action.  
  
As they make their way inside, they shuffle past a small group of people gathered on the porch, sharing a hookah with a long, coiling hose. The coals burn hot as small, black-haired girl takes a pull of smoke. The air around them smells like fruit and incense. It reminds Sora of Axel, since he occasionally enjoys a round of hookah as well. Usually when he, Sora, and Roxas are hanging out in the basement of Roxas’s apartment building—playing board games and generally being dorks. Other times, tequila is involved. Anything goes during “Bro Night.” Axel’s words.  
  
But this is not Bro Night. This is something else entirely.  
  
Inside is an almost solid mass of people. Music blares loudly from somewhere in the main room.  
  
They walk through putrid clouds of cigarette smoke and sweet-smelling vape fog, trying to find someplace more removed from the wall of bodies by the entrance. Eventually, they find a bare wall in a moderately populated room. There’s a group surrounding a coffee table with a worn-down couch and mismatched barstools, but not much else—only an almost constant stream of people passing through to other rooms. Every now and then, someone will acknowledge Riku, and he’ll acknowledge them back. It’s not cold, but Sora wouldn’t exactly call it friendly, either. Like near-strangers passing each other on their morning commutes—merely nodding before going about their business.  
  
Sora stands close to the wall. “So, now what?”  
  
“What else do you do at a party?” he quips. At a party like this? Sora has no idea. Drink yourself stupid? “I’ll be right back.” Riku disappears into the crowd and easily becomes part of the mob.  
  
Well. There goes the conversation, along with the only person Sora knows in this place. It’s not that he’s ever had any trouble socializing. He only questions if he really _wants_ to socialize with anyone around here. The couch is currently a mass of intoxicated people swapping baggies of god-knows-what in a haze of smoke. In the corner, there’s a pair of girls surrounded by three guys—who are standing at eager attention for any glimpse the girls have to offer. Music thumps loudly and unintelligibly from another room. This definitely isn’t one of Namine’s costume parties.  
  
He leans against the wall and tries to blend into the paint. Luckily no one is paying him any attention. He wonders how long they’ll have to stay here, and a sigh drops from his chest. What does it even matter?  
  
There’s the sound of broken glass from somewhere in the house. Sora tilts his head. Already? It’s not even that late.  
  
His gaze wanders around the room. He’d rather not watch a guy in a scarf do a line  of powder off the coffee table, so he ends up looking at the ceiling. There’s a dim, poorly-positioned disco ball up there. What the heck? There’s no light shining on it, either. What’s the point? Who thought that was a good idea? He can’t help but laugh at it. What a waste.  
  
“What’re you laughing at?” Riku slides back next to him and puts a plastic cup in his hand. Took him long enough.  
  
Sora points at the sad-looking mirror ball.  
  
Riku laughs through his nose. “I’ve never noticed that before. Who are they trying to fool?”  
  
He only shrugs, and inspects the contents of the cup. It smells fruity. “What’s this?”  
  
“Punch.”  
  
“That’s suspicious.”  
  
“It’s fine,” he smirks, “I watched them make it.” Then he takes a long drink from his own cup, as if that’s supposed to help.  
  
Sora fleetingly wonders if this “punch” is any match for Riku’s tolerance. “If you say so,” he relents, and tries a sip. It’s not so bad. It’s just a fruity as he imagined… Only, his throat is burning. He bursts into a coughing fit. “Yikes.”  
  
Riku laughs again. “C’mon. Aren’t you tougher than that?”  
  
“It’s just… unexpected. That’s all.” He takes another cautious pull, better prepared this time. “I’ll get used to it.”  
  
“You will.”  
  
Well, at least he has faith.   
  
But it does get easier to drink. The alcohol must be muting his taste buds. He can still feel that inviting burn sliding down his throat.  
  
The party has settled in the way that large groups do—people standing in rowdy clusters with a few drifters weaving effortlessly around them. The group on the couch has fallen into what looks like a deep conversation, though only four of them are really paying any attention. Shouts of victory signal some kind of party game in the next room. Sora tries looking over to see what’s going on, but all he can see from here are two girls furiously making out on a tattered armchair in the corner.  
  
That’s… public.  
  
He inwardly laughs at himself. Comments on public displays… from a performer? Does that make him a hypocrite? Maybe not. But honestly, he’s probably seen worse on stage. Riku may tease him for being a prude, but something like this doesn’t even faze him. It’s only very specific, _personal_ circumstances that make him uncomfortable.  
  
He should probably feel a little uncomfortable, though. He’s not exactly into voyeurism.  
  
So he takes a careful sip of punch and sends a sidelong glance in Riku’s direction. His friend’s face conveys nothing, which means he’s kind of bored. The angle of the cup tilted to his lips says that it’s almost empty. Already? Sora looks to his own drink. It’s over half gone. How long have they been standing here? It’s no wonder Riku looks bored.  
  
“So… what do you normally do at these things?”  he asks, because he can’t think of anything else to talk about in this place.  
  
He only shrugs. “Anything, really.”  
  
That doesn’t help. Sora tries again: “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here with you?”  
  
He thinks about it for a moment or two, and shrugs again. “A drinking game, maybe. There’s always something to get into around here.”  
  
“Yeah, I bet…” And they’re just standing against the wall like extras in someone else’s story. “Sorry. I guess I’m kinda boring.”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I can’t talk to these people like I talk to you,” he says, as earnest as ever. The clarity in his eyes freezes Sora in place, and Riku isn’t even looking at him. “I can’t talk to anyone else like this… But that’s because you’re different. We’re best friends. I only know these guys for one night. After that, they’re just strangers.”  
  
Sora takes another sour sip of punch. “Even the ones that stick around until the next morning?”  
  
“Especially them,” he chuckles.  
  
Sora chews his lip in silence. He wants to ask why. ‘ _Why_ do you keep doing this? You keep talking like there’s no point. If it’s just the attention you’re after, then why does it have to be from someone different every night? Why not just pick someone? Wouldn’t it be easier? One person that can give you all the attention you want. Someone who’s not a stranger. That person definitely exists. Why not someone… like me?’  
  
Wait, wait. Oh god. What is he doing? He really let his thoughts spin out of control. This… this is not the time—not the place—for thoughts like that.  
  
His face runs warm, but he can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or the alcohol. Speaking of which, that’s the perfect thing to drown his thoughts. He polishes off his punch and it burns like acid down his throat. He pulls a sharp breath through his teeth.  
  
“Want another one?” Riku asks over the crowd noise. Judging from the way he lightly gestures with it, his cup is also empty.  
  
“Sure,” Sora  says. Why not? All he wants to do is turn his brain off for a while. “I’ll get it.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“It’s fine. I got it,” he insists, taking the empty cup from Riku’s hand. He mostly wants an excuse to leave the situation.  
  
Riku doesn’t argue. He lets him go.  
  
Sora wanders into the next room like he knows exactly where he’s going—which isn’t true. But this house has a pretty standard layout. It doesn’t take long for him to find the kitchen. There are quite a few people packed inside, and the countertops are a mess of open potato chip bags, lukewarm pizza, and various junk foods. A large punch bowl stands in the center of it all, filled with potent reddish liquid. Some kind of party punch. Sora has heard rumors, but he’s never seen it in person. A punch mixed with fruit juice and several types of alcohol. The nearby trash bin is surrounded by empty glass bottles, so it’s no wonder the drink is so strong.  
  
But that’s how these things are, he muses. If he’s going to get dragged to a house party, he might as well do it right.  
  
He slides between a loud group of people and someone digging through the freezer before he reaches the bowl. The ladle has either been lost, or it never existed at all. There’s only a sad-looking cup floating in the icy mess to act as a liaison. Sora fills his cups with it anyway. Surely all the alcohol will be enough to kill anything gross. Surely. That’s how that works, right?  
  
His head is already too fuzzy to argue against it.  
  
Whoever has their head in the freezer makes an accomplished sound. Vanitas leans up with a frosty bottle of liquor in his fist. Sora stops dead in his tracks. Vanitas’s gaze falls over him, and he offers the bottle with a grin. “Bourbon?”  
  
_Shit_. Sora shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’m set.”  What does he do now? He’s not sure how to act. He doesn’t know Vanitas well enough to come up with a plan! Not on his own!  
  
Vanitas thumbs his nose a few times and shut the freezer with his foot. “What are you doing here, Turtledove? This is a lions’ den.”  
  
There’s that cutesy nickname again. What’s his problem? Sora’s tone gains an edge: “I’m here with Riku.”  
  
“Of course,” he scoffs. “I forgot about that.” The bottle of bourbon opens with a loud twist of the cork. Vanitas takes a slow sip. “Are you enjoying your little act?”  
  
“I don’t get why you keep saying that. It’s not an act.”  
  
“And I’m sure the rumors aren’t true either,” he laughs.  
  
What rumors? Sora doesn’t dare ask.  
  
“You’re either a liar or a glutton for punishment.” Another grin peels back his lips. “Or maybe it’s both.”  
  
What the hell does that mean? Sora doesn’t like his tone. Or the insinuation. Or how those gold eyes cut clean through him. “I’m not going to take relationship advice from someone like you,” he mutters.  
  
Vanitas shrugs like he doesn’t care either way. “Suit yourself, Turtledove.”  
  
“I have a name, ya know.”  
  
That amuses him more than it should. “How familiar,” he chuckles. What is that supposed to mean? “Well then, whatever you say, _Sora_.”  
  
At least he remember it. Sora makes sure to glare at him before walking away. There’s something about those eyes that  see right through him. Maybe it’s because Vanitas refuses to believe the act when it’s never failed before. Maybe it’s because Sora keep imagining whatever relationship Riku and Vanitas used to have and it gives him a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
He shakes the thoughts loose. Don’t think about that now! Whatever really happened, it doesn’t matter. Besides, Sora is sure that his imagination is much worse than the truth. Probably.  
  
He makes his way back carefully, all the while sipping on his cup of punch. He just wants to get the taste out of his mouth. Talking to Vanitas has really soured his mood.  
  
He weaves effortlessly around body after body. He could swear the music has gotten louder, but he can still hear someone, somewhere shrieking with laughter, and a girl in the corner puking her brains out into a grocery bag. A huge, burly guy with incredible sideburns pops out of the crowd and offers to dump a shot of liquor into Sora’s mouth straight from the bottle. He politely declines. Just a little farther…   
  
Across the room, he spots Vanitas climbing the stairs to the second floor. And that’s the end of that. Good.  
  
Sora finally returns and finds Riku still propped against the wall. He puts the full cup into his hand.  
  
“See anything interesting?” Riku asks.  
  
“Not really,” he lies. “But I wasn’t paying attention.”   
  
Riku hums affirmatively into his drink. For once, he takes Sora’s lamest excuse at face value. Or maybe he’s decided to not push such a petty issue.   
  
Sora doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s glad. He really doesn’t want to explain his running into Vanitas. That would just throw more fuel on the fire. He returns to his spot against the wall and says nothing else about it.  
  
There are people milling about all around them. There’s shouting and different music coming from somewhere in the house, but here is pretty calm. Sora isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. The sheer amount of people and volume of the music ensures that any hushed conversations blend into a suspicious hum. Most people are just standing around talking. The group on the couch is now doing… something. He’s not sure. But there is one girl whose head has rolled to rest on the back of the sofa. She’s sitting there motionless with wide eyes, staring at the ceiling. She looks zoned out. Like a zombie. It makes Sora’s skin crawl to watch her. It prods at a sour memory he’d rather leave forgotten.  
  
Then Riku’s arm suddenly falls across his shoulders. But Sora’s already pretty far into his second drink, so he barely flinches. He doesn’t even tense up. Amazing. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
Sora shrugs. “Nothing, really.” It’s not a lie this time. What _was_ he thinking about just now? The details of the crowd fizzle out into a homogeneous blur once again. “Nothing at all.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?”  
  
Still, there’s something bothering him.  He can’t stop himself from asking: “What do people _really_ do at these things, anyway?”  
  
“Drugs, mostly,” Riku says. Sora is certain his easygoing tone doesn’t match the subject matter.  
  
“Are you serious?”  
  
He softly gestures across the room. “The guy in blue over there is pushing Xanax. And those four on the sofa are tripping so hard on molly, they can probably taste colours by now.”  
  
Sora has to resist the urge to turn and confirm it for himself. Not that anyone would really notice.  
  
“There’s a girl in yellow around here somewhere who has an internship at a local veterinary office. She can get you ketamine.”  
  
He doesn’t even want to think about that one. He’s pretty sure that’s the drug that almost killed Riku during their first year of uni. His crazy downward spiral is starting to make more and more sense.  
  
“And then there’s Demyx.”  
  
Wait a second. He recognizes that name. “Axel’s friend?”  
  
Riku nods. “He usually has a blunt or two in his pocket.”  
  
That explains a lot. “Wow, that’s… a lot of options.” Sora fiddles with the plastic cup in his hand. Getting completely plastered on alcohol doesn’t sound so terrible by comparison.  
  
Riku doesn’t seem fazed, and finishes his drink. Already? “That’s not all. But the really serious stuff happens upstairs.” And that explains Vanitas’s whereabouts. “These are more business meetings than they are social gatherings.”  
  
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand it,” Sora admits.  
  
“That’s not a bad thing.”  
  
He wishes that Riku didn’t understand it.  
  
“It makes for some great people watching, though.”  
  
Sora can’t argue with that. “That’s for sure.” There’s a guy in the next room currently standing on a table shouting about how “water isn’t wet,” or some other nonsense. Everything around them is a spectacle. He has another gulp of punch, and is surprised to find that it’s almost gone. When did he—? Oh no. “Don’t let me turn into a spectacle,” he blurts.  
  
He feels Riku shift. “Huh?”  
  
Damn. He skipped over the middle, didn’t he? “After all this punch,” he tries to explain, but his sentences keep coming out broken. “Don’t let me do anything stupid.”  
  
For some reason, Riku starts laughing. “Oh, I get it. But what could _you_ possibly do?”  
  
Why did he say it like that? That’s a little insulting. “You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Sora defends.  
  
It looks like he’s trying not to laugh even harder. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” A grin spreads across his face, and he plants a light kiss on Sora’s cheek.  
  
Whoa. “Knock it off,” he swats, ignoring the painful lurch in his chest. Quiet down, stupid heart. None of this is real. Someone must be watching.  
  
He only chuckles. “Am I not allowed to kiss my boyfriend? I thought you wanted authenticity.” Sora rolls his eyes. His own words—used against him  yet again. “Weren’t you going to teach me some stage tricks, anyway?”  
  
Oh, right. The stage kiss. He’d totally forgotten. And that challenging tone… Riku really knows how to get to him.  
  
Sora huffs. Authenticity, huh? “Fine. It’s easy.” Here we go. Shut out every thought. Muscle memory. Don’t hesitate. Another breath, and Sora turns. His hand finds Riku’s cheek and pulls him close. The alcohol has already muted the feeling in his fingers. His palm sticks out just enough to hide their lips, and any connection that may or may not be happening. Prying eyes would never know. But Sora knows. There’s nothing to see. That doesn’t stop his heart from hammering away in his chest, though.  
  
And then it’s done. Riku is still wearing that slick smirk. “That’s all?”  
  
“Told you it was easy.” He puts on a grin of his own. Hopefully it looks more confident that he feels. Shut it out. Focus on something else. “It’s the angle that does it.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“So, if I just…” and Riku reaches for him, mimicking the trick with an almost eerie precision. Sora suddenly forgets how to breathe. “How’s that?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” he fumbles. Is his mouth still hanging open? “You got it.”  
  
“Great.” His other arm is still coiled around Sora’s back, and he tightens his grip. Sora is pressed flush against his side. “Thanks.” He sounds so serious when he says that. He’s not talking about the stage kiss trick anymore, is he? He broke character.  
  
But that’s fine… right? It’s nothing that can’t be twisted into context.  
  
Besides, it’s sincere gratitude. Why wouldn’t Sora accept it? But he refuses to break as well, and responds lightly: “Anytime.” He slowly lets his body relax. This isn’t so bad. He could get comfortable like this. Or maybe that’s just the booze talking. He’s really feeling it now. His thoughts are swimming noisily around, while his body falls back into the safety net of his character. Sometimes it’s easy to not worry about being yourself for a while. You can get away with anything.  
  
Maybe… he’ll get lost here for a bit. He’ll slip full-on into this new skin. The Happy Couple was never the easiest of their Acts, but that’s only because of the underlying awkwardness. If Sora can just turn himself off… Autopilot will take care of the rest.  
  
This is perfect. Any weirdness can be passed off as acting. There’s no reason for him to be awkward or embarrassed. Not here. Not now. He leans into that half-embrace. Into a safe space he’s ached for. For so long now. His arms are clinging and grasping. They have minds of their own. Riku doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t even flinch. The world is spinning so fast now. The only constant Sora has is the gentle pressure of Riku’s arm against his back.  
  
He doesn’t drink often, but he’s pretty sure he’s never been this drunk in his life. Not even when he hangs out with Roxas and Axel. And he hasn’t even finished his second drink yet!  
  
So he downs the last of that drink before reaching over and dropping it into Riku’s also-empty cup. “Here. No more,” he mumbles.  
  
Riku scoffs, two useless cups stacked in his hand. “You’re through?”  
  
“Way through.” He still can’t feel his fingers. Or his lips. Oh, man. His head feels so light. He rests it against Riku’s shoulder. “That punch is really strong.”  
  
“Maybe for you,” he chuckles.  
  
It’s crazy. Even in this position, everything is so easy. It may not be real, but… to the character of Sora: Half of the Happy Couple, everything is real. It’s all perfectly fine. Normal. There’s nothing wrong with this. He’s happy.  
  
For some reason, that makes Sora’s arms cling tighter to Riku’s torso. It feels like the world is tilting around them.  
  
“Hey there!” A peppy voice calls over the din of the crowd. Sora cracks an eye open to find a smiling blonde guy with an undercut that looks terribly familiar…  
  
“Demyx,” Riku says.  
  
That’s right! Demyx! Axel’s infamous, stoner musician friend. The one that’s always sitting around campus with his guitar. Sora has often wondered if he ever attends any classes.  
  
But here he is now. At this party. Appearing in a haze of smoke with a stick of smoldering embers between his fingers. Wait a second…  
  
“Enjoying yourselves?” Demyx asks, nonchalantly taking a drag of the blunt. He holds the smoke captive in his lungs and offers the drug to Riku. Huh. They must know each other well enough.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Riku accepts the offer. Sora takes a half-step back and returns to his place against the wall. He watches Riku have a pull of smoke, pause for a moment or two, and fall into a fit of coughing; handing the blunt back to its owner in the meantime.  
  
Demyx exhales a huge cloud of smoke towards the ceiling and coughs a bit as well. Sora sends them both a concerned stare, but the blonde shrugs it off. “You gotta cough to get off.” Oh, really? Is that what They say? He holds the blunt towards Sora. “You want a hit?”  
  
Sora shakes his head fiercely. “No, thanks. I think one vice is enough for me.”  
  
“Hey, that’s good! I like that,” Demyx laughs, and has another short puff. He tries to speak without breath: “That’s why I don’t drink.” Huh. Sora didn’t know that. Demyx slowly releases the smoke in his lungs, and winks. “One vice is enough.”  
  
Sora finds himself grinning. “Right.” It’s no wonder Axel likes Demyx so well. He might not be not so bad.  
  
Demyx’s gaze falls back onto Riku. “You good?”  
  
And Riku holds up a hand. “I’m good.”  
  
A nod. He sets the blunt between his fingers. “Well then, I’ll let you lovebirds enjoy the party. Don’t get too crazy.” Then he waves and wanders off, vanishing through a wall of people in the next room.  
  
Sora watches him go, autopilot still engaged. “He might be the sanest person at this party right now.”  
  
“Saner than you?” Riku smirks.  
  
He can’t stop himself from snickering, and leans back against the wall. “ _I’m_ here with _you_. I’m clearly unstable.”  
  
His arm drops across Sora’s shoulders again. “Is that right? Should I take that as an insult?”  
  
“Not at all,” he laughs, falling into that embrace once more. “You shouldn’t take it as anything.”  
  
“What does that even mean?”  
  
He’s laughing hard now. “I don’t know!” His face is back on that shoulder. Those arms are wrapped again. It’s closer this time—their chests are flush against each other. But it isn’t awkward. All they can do is laugh. Is it the act, or the alcohol? Not even Sora can tell anymore. Shirt fabric feels nice against his cheek. He can’t feel much of anything else at this point. His fingers, legs, and lips have all turned numb. They’re filled with static. He pulls the warmth close with whatever limb will respond.  
  
Riku holds him tight, laughing softly into his ear. “You’re such a lightweight.”  
  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he slurs. “Less time. Less money.”  
  
“I can’t argue with that.”  
  
“I bet you barely feel anything, huh?”  
  
He considers this for a moment. “Just a little.”  
  
Sora groans. “You’re such an expensive date.”  
  
“And you’re cheap,” Riku jabs. “So we break even.”  
  
“Whatever you say,” he mumbles. He’s safe from the chaotically spinning world in a cradle of warmth. He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to see. He’ll just let his boyfriend carry him home.  
  
The back of his mind picks over that word. _Boyfriend_. There’s something wrong with it. Why doesn’t it work?  
  
Sora’s face crinkles in confusion.  
  
“You ready to go?” Riku asks.  
  
_Because it isn’t true_. Shit. That’s right! Sora tenses up. What the hell is this? “Yeah,” he forces. How did he let it get this far?  
  
“C’mon. Let’s go home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”  
  
Sora blinks blearily at him. Riku’s image is swirling before his eyes. “I guess so…”  
  
That gaze is sharp. “You okay?”  
  
Damn. Was it so obvious? Sora scrambles to remember what’s going on. “Yeah, I’m just…” then he takes a step back and noticeably wobbles, “starting to see double.”  
  
Riku instantly grabs his arm. He looks half-concerned, and half-amused. Of course he does. “Let’s get you to bed.”  
  
“Okay,” Sora nods. They move like a blur. Before he knows it, they’re outside, walking down the sidewalk, heading for Riku’s empty flat. Sometimes, Riku’s grip on his arm is the only thing that keeps him upright. This is out of control. How did it get this bad so fast? He _never_ intended to be this far gone… He wants to apologize—to tell Riku to forget it—but nothing comes out of his mouth but breath. He’ll have to try to remember for later. For tomorrow.  
  
Riku carts him all the way home, drags him up the stairs, and carefully deposits him onto the bed. Sora’s vision twirls like a kaleidoscope. It takes so long for him to find focus. Riku sits on the edge of the bed and smirks down at him. “Are you gonna make it?”  
  
He only groans. How fair is this? Riku is still totally fine. Sora tries his best to glare at him, but it probably looks pitiful. It’s hard to see anything through this swirling mess. This misery. Kairi is right: why _does_ he do this to himself? He’s so exhausted already. Can they stop pretending now? Wasn’t tonight enough? More than enough? Wasn’t it?  
  
Maybe he should just say it. Come clean. He’d feel better then, right? He can hear Roxas’s voice in his head, saying words he’s heard so many times before, ‘Just tell him how you feel already!’ Sora’s own voice chimes in, ‘And then you won’t have to do this anymore.’  
  
Hah. Wouldn’t that be great?  
  
Go on. Say it. Do it!  
  
“I have something to tell you,” he slurs.  
  
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”  
  
The words reach his tongue before he finally realizes what he’s doing and slams his mouth shut. What the hell is he thinking!? He can’t say that! He can’t _ever_ say that! Is this what they mean when they say alcohol destroys your inhibitions? To hell with that! He was about to confess everything! To make a fool of himself and screw everything up!  
  
But he’s already set the stage. He has to say _something_.  
  
Damn it. What?  
  
Sora’s lips move before he even knows what he’s saying. “I know it was you who made Selphie cry in second grade.”  
  
Riku narrows his eyes. “She was teasing you.”  
  
“You made her eat sand!”  
  
“ You wouldn’t leave your room!”  
  
That’s true, but… Sora laughs. He meant to say that out-loud. Riku shakes his head like he can tell exactly what he’s thinking. Sora gazes blearily up at him. It’s hard to keep focused. Things are still spinning. “Riku, I… don’t want to do this anymore.”  
  
“It’ll wear off in a few hours. Just get some sleep and—”  
  
“That’s not what I mean,” he mumbles, words running together. He’d shake his head, but the room is spinning enough as it is. “The act. I don’t want to do it anymore.”  
  
A smirk creases his face. “C’mon. Are you giving up already?”  
  
“I don’t like this. Haven’t we done enough?”  
  
“It’s just one more day. Then I’ll leave you alone. Just one. I know you can do it.”  
  
“It isn’t that easy,” he groans.  
  
“You act like I’m not going to pay you back. I know it’s a lot. So, what about this: the first week of summer is all yours. We’ll do anything you want, okay?”  
  
He can’t deny how appealing that sounds. “Anything?”  
  
“Yeah,” he nods. “So help me out. Just for _one_ _more_ day.  And then next weekend we’ll order pizza and watch a bunch of stupid movies. Okay?”  
  
Honestly, that’s all he’s wanted for the longest time. He never thought he’d have to jump through such crazy hoops to get it, though. “You promise?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“No, you have to _really promise_. Like pinky promise.”  He sticks out his pinky finger for emphasis.  
  
Riku gives him a look. “Seriously?” Sora doesn’t even blink. Eventually, Riku sighs defeated, and they lock fingers. “Fine.”  
  
“Yes,” Sora chuckles. “Now, if you break the promise, I get to break your pinky.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s how a pinky promise works.”  
  
“I will _break_ your pinky finger.”  
  
“Okay. Got it. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
They each reclaim their fingers, and Riku studies him with an almost somber look on his face. “Look, Sora… I know I ask you for a lot. And you do so much that you don’t want to. Like doing this act, or the other morning… or last year when I went to that stupid pre-Med party and almost died from drunkenly taking a few lines of ketamine.”  
  
Sora groans, images leaping into his mind’s eye like memories of war: Riku lying still and staring vacantly at the ceiling. He’s pulling short, slow breaths that seem hours apart. Sora crushes the memory against his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I don’t want to remember that night. I was so scared. You were barely moving.”  
  
“Yeah. And you did all that research and found out what to do.” He nervously wrings his hands together. Sora hopes that he doesn’t continue down this road of thought. Let’s just leave it at that. Please. “You cleaned me up after I puked my kidneys into a trash bin, and then you stayed up all night to make sure I was still breathing… even though you had a huge midterm the next day.” He smiles like a grimace. “It feels like a crazy fever dream, but I remember you doing all of that.”  
  
“I had to,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t just sit and watch. If your breathing had slowed too much, you could’ve…” Tears are already forming in his eyes at the memory alone. Fuck. He rubs furiously at his face. “I told you I didn’t want to remember!”  
  
“I just want to let you know how much I appreciate it. You pretty much saved my life, you know.” Sora only sniffs in response. Riku’s gaze turns distant, and he scowls. “I’ve gone to other pre-Med parties since then. What the hell is wrong with me?”  
  
Sora can’t take his eyes off of him. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing.”  
  
His laugh is harsh and full of spite. “I need to stop relying on you so much.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“Tomorrow will be the end of it,” he declares. That expression is so serious. Sora almost believes him. “I won’t make you worry anymore.”  
  
“I’ve heard this speech before, Riku,” he sighs.  
  
Those eyes cut over to him. “I mean it. I owe it to you. This is the end.”  
  
He hums to disguise his disbelieving laugh. “You promise?”  
  
“Promise.”  
  
He’d ask for another pinky promise, but he doesn’t want to risk it. Those promises are supposed to be sacred. They’re never meant to be broken.  
  
Wow. When did he become so faithless?  
  
A darker voice asks: How many times has he been burned?  
  
Sora shuts his eyes on the spinning whirlpool of a room. He’s starting to feel nauseated. He groans without meaning to.  
  
Riku laughs quietly. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning. Probably.”  
  
“Wha’dyu mean probably?” He can barely get his lips to shape the words.  
  
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you if you’re hungover.”  
  
He honestly doesn’t know how to feel about that.  
  
After the silence settles and he loses all sense of time, his body finally decides that he should feel bad about it. And wow, does he feel awful. Is this what a hangover feels like? How do other people do this all the time?  
  
He opens his eyes as carefully as he can. It’s already daylight. Luckily, the curtains are drawn shut. _Wait_ … Sora blinks through the haze of his migraine. Memories begin to piece themselves together. This room… This is Riku’s place, isn’t it?  
  
Of course it is. A hangover like this should make it obvious.  
  
He groans and turns over, sending a tidal wave of nausea through his head. _Shit_. Don’t move anymore. Don’t ever move again.  
  
The lights are off and the curtains are shut tight. There’s a sports drink and an open bottle of aspirin on the nightstand, and the spot next to him on the mattress is still vaguely warm.  
  
Maybe in a few minutes, Sora will be able to gather the energy to sit upright, and hopefully not puke his guts out all over the place.  He gently lays the covers over his face and groans again.  
  
“That bad, huh?” Riku’s voice comes from somewhere in the room. Sora doesn’t flinch or even open his eyes. He imagines Riku standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb like he always does, with that thin, amused smirk on his face.  
  
Sora makes a vague noise from beneath the covers.  
  
“It happens,” he chuckles.  
  
Oh, man. He had no idea hangovers could be this awful. He’s woken up feeling bad before, after spending a night drunkenly playing video games with Axel and Roxas, but this is a million times worse. He’d like to just curl up and die. How do people do this? How does Riku do this?  
  
“Are you gonna make it?” he asks.  
  
“Mm.” This means ‘No.’  
  
“Do you feel like you want to die?”  
  
“Mm.” This means ‘Yes.’  
  
Riku laughs again. Sora hears him move closer and set something down on the floor. “Here,” then he grabs the bottle of aspirin and dumps out a dosage. The mattress dips as he sits down. Sora doesn’t move. “Come on,” he coaxes.  
  
So Sora carefully pulls the sheet back down. Riku still looks a little disheveled. He hasn’t been awake long either. He’s holding the aspirin tablets between his fingers.  
  
“Take these. It’ll help.”  
  
He takes the pills into his unsteady hand. Riku grabs the sports drink from the nightstand and holds it toward him as well. Great. That means he has to move. Damn it. Just make it quick. He braces himself before sitting up, just enough to take a healthy gulp of the offered beverage and down the aspirin. The drink is still cold and feels amazing going down his parched throat. He gently sinks his head back into the pillow. “Thanks.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can sleep it off. We have all day.” But not all night. “There’s a trash bin on the floor if you need it.” Oh. That must be what he set down earlier.  
  
“’Kay.”  
  
Sora hears him smile. He doesn’t say anything else. He quietly leaves Sora to his sickness, and soon the world blots out with sleep once again.  
  
It’s a dreamless sleep. An uneasy rest.  
  
Reality comes in and out of focus for a while. The scent of black coffee. Subtle, clean shampoo. A passing rain shower. Sword fighting and crushing metal… what? No, that music… it’s a video game. Sora recognizes it as a JRPG he lent Riku months ago. The volume is turned just low enough to hear. From the sounds of it, Riku isn’t even halfway through the game yet. Not even through the first route.  
  
Sora wants to say something, to talk to him about it, but he’s still too afraid to move, and sleep drags him back down before he has the chance.  
  
Of course. A laid-back day doing nothing, and he can’t even enjoy it.  
  
  
.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I survived. Woo. Let’s keep the Pain Train going. And because this is Kingdom Hearts with a k-drama twist… of COURSE it’s going to get worse before it gets better.
> 
> I like to think that everyone should go to a completely insane party at least once. Not alone, of course. Just to experience it. The atmosphere in such a place is something… very difficult to convey. Anyway, uh… what do I even say about this chapter? It’s a long one? Uh… Betcha thought the “self-destructive behaviour” tag only applied to Riku, huh, didn’tcha? Well! Oh, and Axel and Roxas definitely have bigger roles in this fic. Don’t worry about that. (Like anyone is.) We’re getting there.
> 
> And, of course, today’s chapter title is brought to you by Atreyu: “Slow Burn.” The genre is (again) some variant of metalcore/post-hardcore. I have other tastes, I promise. Don’t you look at me like that. The next chapter is totally different. You’ll see.
> 
> I’m trying to be more… social on social media, I guess. So… yeah, drop a comment if you feel so inclined. I try to respond most of the time! Talking to people is hard. Gah.


	4. Everything Black

_  
Chapter 4) Everything Black_  
  
[Baby, you should come with me,  
I’ll take you to the dark side.]  
  
  
  
‘I promise. I’m fine.’ Sora’s thumbs pause over the screen of his phone. Apparently, Roxas has been bombarding him with messages all day. He didn’t even know it until he climbed out of his hangover coma and went home to clean himself up. He finally charged his phone, and it lit up with missed messages. Now he sits on the bed in clean clothes, tethered to the wall, waiting for Riku to show up and whisk him away somewhere else.  
  
Roxas thinks he was ignoring him, or something. Sora decides to tell him the truth. ‘I was just hungover.’  
  
‘Figures. So are you through pretending?’  
  
‘Almost.’  
  
Roxas doesn’t answer. Sora can see him now—clicking his tongue and locking the phone in disgust.  
  
He types one last text, ‘Come on. Have more faith in me,’ but he doesn’t send it. He can already imagine Roxas’s reply: ‘You’re not the one I’ve lost faith in,’ or something like that. And Sora doesn’t have a response for that. He doesn’t have a good reason to keep going like this. Is it because he doesn’t want to go back on his word? He doesn’t want to disappoint Riku? Neither of those feel like good excuses. And Kairi’s voice creeps back into his memory once again: ‘Why do you keep doing this to yourself?’  
  
_Why_?  
  
Sora doesn’t know.  
  
Or maybe he _does_ , but it’s the lamest excuse on the planet and he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. He can’t bear it. Damn… When did he become so melodramatic? When did he devolve into a character from a bad Shakespearean comedy, where something as simple and contrived as _love_ is his major driving force? There’s got to be more to him than that, right? Surely there is.  
  
He flops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling.  There _is_ more to him than that. There’s at least enough that he wants to save before everything falls apart and it completely destroys him. Something to be left in the wreckage. He told both Kairi and Roxas that this would be the last time he’d do something so stupid. This is his last stand as an enabler. It has to be. He has that much self-preservation, at least.  
  
His phone chimes in the silence. Roxas has finally responded: ‘Let me know if anything happens. Come get me if you have to. I don’t mind.’  
  
Sora smiles. If nothing else, he can always count on Roxas to have his back. Even through his dumber decisions. ‘You got it.’   
  
The conversation ends. Now all that’s left to do is brace himself for whatever may come.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Sunday seems like a weird time for a night on the town, but that’s exactly what they’re doing.  
  
There’s a hole-in-the-wall type of bar on the livelier side of campus whose manager has close ties to a local fraternity. Which means the place is usually busy. Even on Sunday. Especially with classes over and done with.  
  
This is how Riku explains it, but Sora has already found the subtext. If the manager is so close with this fraternity, he’s probably an alum. So he’ll probably be overlooking a lot of the otherwise… shady business going on around him. And this whole weekend so far has been nothing but shady.  
  
Sora sighs and leans his head against the car window. It’s cool to the touch.  
  
“You okay?” Riku asks from the driver’s seat.  
  
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, breath leaving a trail of fog on the glass. “I still have a headache.” It’s not a lie, but he’s not sure if this dull ache he feels all over can really be considered a headache.  
  
But it’s believable enough. He hears Riku laugh and call it “persistent.”  
  
Sora used to think that persistence was a good thing. He’s not so sure anymore.  
  
He spends the rest of the drive with his eyes closed, listening to the low rumble of the engine. It could lull him to sleep like this. But, of course, that can’t last, and he’s suddenly awoken by the sound of the car changing gears.  
  
They’re parked. Somewhere downtown? Sora isn’t too sure. He doesn’t come this way often, if at all. Riku is already getting out of the car, and Sora has to scramble to keep up.  
  
The bar is on the same block. It’s the most unassuming establishment Sora has ever seen. Simple exterior… Not on a busy street… The signs on the windows aren’t even legible from the road. A hole-in-the-wall, indeed.  
  
And inside, the place is surprisingly… dead. There’s only a few people milling about, and they’re clearly not regulars.  
  
It doesn’t take long to overhear the gossip. It’s floating around this place like stagnant air.  
  
“He had to leave.”  
  
“This sucks.”  
  
“Were the police involved?”  
  
“I bet that bitch had something to do with it.”  
  
“So this place is dead now, huh?”  
  
“… find something else.”  
  
They can only catch halves of sentences and scraps of whispers around the bar. But the story is clear enough. The Hook Up is gone. Which means there’s no more shady business going on here for now. So the regulars have moved on and there’s no party. There are only gossipers here to pick up the pieces and get in the way. The chairs by the bar are full of such people. Sora and Riku arrived too late, so they can’t sit down anywhere and have to stand off to the side. Sora can barely hold still. There’s nothing happening. And he’s exhausted and hungover and he wants to go home and crawl into his bed and never come out again and Riku is just _standing there_ not giving him any reason to stay. No reason at all. For anything.  
  
Why are they here?  
  
Why are they like _this_? How did this happen? Whatever once was feels so far away from now. The closest it ever gets is when Sora pulls the covers over his head as he’s falling asleep and he takes himself back there. Somewhere that’s not here. Not like this.  
  
He feels sick to his stomach. “Looks like this party is a bust,” he says. Insinuating. Trying to push something along.  
  
Riku nods slowly. He doesn’t look very disappointed. “Is that okay?”  
  
“It is for me. But is it okay with you?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“C’mon,” Sora steps close, fingers tracing the line of his belt. He has to block out the fact that their hips are pressed together. “This is boring.” This is getting us nowhere. There’s no point to this.  
  
Riku’s eyes scan the dwindling crowd. Then he stops, and a satisfied little smile forms on his face. “Alright. Let’s go home.”  
  
Sora is perfectly fine to leave it at that. He starts to move away, but Riku grabs his wrists. Sora isn’t one to break character, so he takes it in stride. He studies Riku’s face for a cue. What’s the plan? What are we doing? He keeps his grin up like a shield. Riku doesn’t move. Eventually, Sora tilts his head, “What are you waiting for?”  
  
His attention jerks back, and he chuckles. “Nothing.” Probably a lie. He leans in, and their lips gently meet.  
  
Sora freezes.   
  
Oh.  
  
_Oh_. Right. It’s still going. They… They have to keep up the act. Just in case.  
  
It’s just an act.  
  
His first… Really…   
  
It only lasts a second, but it feels like an eternity. Sora’s eyes screw shut. Remember. Remember the details. They’re not themselves. Dating for three months. They’ve kissed before, but not much past that. This should be normal.  
  
Calm down. It’s just an act. Only an act.  
  
It violates every barrier Sora put in place for this endeavor, but that’s… okay, right? This should be the end of it. After tonight, it’s all over.  
  
And he’s wanted this. He wants it so badly. He only wishes that it could’ve been real.  
  
Riku is still smiling as though nothing is wrong.   
  
There’s a stabbing pain through his chest. Why couldn’t it have been real?  
  
Sora knows his grin is faltering. He tries to cover it up with a laugh.  
  
Riku’s arm snakes around his shoulders. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Yeah,” he stammers. “Sounds good.”  
  
  
.  
  
  
He drops Sora off in front of his shared student housing with a “See you later.” Sora mumbles a similar response and exits the vehicle. There’s something off about him, Riku notices. He seems distracted. He didn’t say a word the entire drive.  
  
Maybe he’s just tired. Or still a little hungover. It’s hard to say.   
  
Riku checks the clock on the dashboard. It’s not quite midnight. Awfully early, considering his usual antics, but he heads home anyway. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go.  
  
He takes the long way back, just because he can.  
  
The flat is empty and quiet. Riku is halfway up the stairs when there’s a light knock at the door.   
  
What the-? Who on Earth is that? At this hour?  
  
So he goes back down to answer it. Opening the door reveals a familiar figure with spiky hair so dark that it blends into the nighttime sky. Vanitas grins like a villain. Riku can hardly find the words. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Vanitas ignores him and pushes his way inside. “I heard that your roommate has been studying abroad since March—which means you live alone for now. Lucky you.”  
  
“So you’ve been digging into my business?”  
  
He ignores that too. “You’ve got quite the reputation these days. I guess the empty flat helps with that.”  
  
He tries to walk further in, but Riku stands in his way. “Vanitas, why are you here?” Then he grimaces. “You smell like whiskey.”  
  
“You saw that sad send-off,” he scoffs. “I have to make up for it. I can’t leave like this. Better to burn out than fade away, right?”  
  
“And you thought… I could help you with that?”  
  
“Don’t worry—you weren’t my first choice.” Riku rolls his eyes. He should’ve expected that. “Although, I am disappointed that your little turtledove isn’t here. I like watching him squirm.”  
  
“I’m trying to keep him as far away from you as possible,” Riku lies.  
  
“Is _that_ why I kept running into you two this weekend?” he laughs. “ Oh, that awkward charade of yours was _really_ convincing.  Oscar-worthy.”  
  
Riku can’t respond to that. Honestly, what else could he say to convince Vanitas of something he has no intention of believing? Something that isn’t even true, to boot.   
  
“But enough with the act. I’m bored with it already.” He leans in close, and Riku notices how glassy his eyes are. His pupils are spread wide. He’s completely fucked up. How did he even drive here? Well, it’s hard to say what kind of high he’s currently riding. Drug cocktails don’t exactly smell as strongly as a few shots of whiskey.  
  
Riku is suddenly curious about what kind of send-off Vanitas is hoping for. He can barely see those gold eyes through the dark of his high.  
  
“Let’s find some entertainment, hm?” he suggests, twirling a motorcycle key around his finger. “I’ll even let you ride bitch. Just this once.”  
  
Riku’s mouth has gone dry. But still, there’s no way in hell he’s going to let Vanitas drive him anywhere while he’s this fucked up. Not unless he was equally fucked, anyway. “No, thanks.”  
  
Vanitas shrugs. “Suit yourself. But you’ll have to find your own way home once I’m through with you.” His voice becomes nothing but breath and bass. It’s chilling, but not unpleasant.  
  
“What makes you think I’m going with you?” That tone is so weak. Riku can’t even convince himself.   
  
“Because you are,” he states with an evil smirk. “You can’t say no.”  
  
Riku scoffs, mostly because he can’t think of a good comeback. That’s not true… is it?   
  
“So, stop bitching. It’ll be like old times,” Vanitas presses. Riku doesn’t answer. Several seconds tick by, and then Vanitas laughs through his nose. “Don’t act like you haven’t been _aching_ for  this all week. It’s as clear as fucking day.” He steps even closer. Riku’s lungs fill with the smell of whiskey and cologne. Vanitas mutters under his breath, “I’m giving you an open invitation, idiot. Just go with it.”   
  
“Right…” he mumbles without meaning to. Vanitas grins, and it ignites something within him. It’s like nostalgia. Vanitas did say ‘like old times.’ That’s surprisingly persuasive. Riku starts to consider it. Because, well… why shouldn’t he? Vanitas didn’t believe the act with Sora, and that was Riku’s best excuse. The only thing keeping him from going with Vanitas now is his pride. His dignity? No, Riku is pretty sure he lost both of those things a long time ago. What does it matter?  
  
He could give in, and go with it. So maybe, just for a second, he can remember what it was like. When Vanitas would drag him from house party to house party, and the world would spin so fast he couldn’t see anything, and they would wake up next to a stranger’s pool in a half-naked heap with three other people.  
  
It was stupid, and lavish. But goddamn, it was fun.  
  
He has to admit that. It was _fun_. The kind of fun he’d never had before.  Vanitas is an expert in it. It’s how he lives. Back then, Riku didn’t care how sick he would be the next day. Because in that moment, everything would be vivid and spinning and electric. He… wants that back. He wants the smoke in his eyes—the fire in his fingers. He _wants_ it.  
  
Vanitas is standing so close, he dominates his vision. He’s still waiting for an answer. The _only_ answer, because Riku only has one.   
  
The want and adrenaline is too much. He grabs Vanitas by the shoulders and lays a rough, hungry kiss on his lips.  
  
Vanitas’s hands stay low. He doesn’t reciprocate. His mouth merely tightens into an evil smile.  
  
And the feeling… There’s nothing. He doesn’t feel anything. It’s not right. He should be feeling _something_. He always did before. But he’s not now.  
  
What is he even doing? What  is he looking for? What’s the point of any of this?  
  
Vanitas looks like he’s trying his best to not laugh. Which, admittedly, isn’t much.  
  
And Riku suddenly knows that whatever ‘ _it_ ’ is, Vanitas doesn’t have it. He never did.  
  
Oh god, he has to do better than this. He has to _be_ better than this.   
  
Vanitas is looking at something behind him. Riku turns to find the front door open, with Sora standing gobsmacked in the threshold.  
  
This is perfect.  
  
Sora’s face looks so empty. His eyes have turned hollow, yet shiny with moisture. “Why do I even bother?” he mumbles. “I keep thinking—hoping it’ll be different, but…” his voice is shaking. “Maybe I’ve been fooling myself this whole time. I’m such an idiot.” He’s keeping his tone level and subdued. It’s such a different choice from his usual hysterics.  
  
Tears are already falling down his face. Riku bites down onto the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He’s been in awe of Sora’s ability recently. When did his acting get so _good_?  
  
“Maybe this really can’t be salvaged.” His entire body shudders. He’s _sobbing_. “Maybe it’s time I finally give up.”  
  
“Sora—”  
  
“Sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.” He turns and leaves. The door softly clicks shut.  
  
The following silence is smothering.  
  
And then  Vanitas laughs through his nose. “How dramatic.”  
  
His voice crawls over Riku’s skin in the worst way.  
  
“Your poor, precious turtledove.”  
  
“Shut up.”   
  
Vanitas laughs again. “What a fucking sob story. I knew he was too fragile to put up with you.”   
  
Riku grits his teeth. This irritation isn’t an act. “Don’t talk about him. You don’t know anything.”   
  
“Don’t I? Didn’t you just throw yourself at me to check if you had _feelings_ for me?” he sneers  in that toxic, condescending way of his. Riku says nothing. “What a riot.”  
  
“That’s not it.”  
  
“Sure it’s not.” Vanitas quips, stepping a little closer. And then, all of his mirth suddenly drops. He pokes Riku in the chest. “Listen up, idiot: stop trying to be me. It’ll never happen. You’re way too high school for that shit.” It takes everything Riku has to keep himself from punching him. “Trust me, you have too many feelings to be a proper villain. You’re just a shitty anti-hero, at best.”  
  
“And what the hell does _that_ mean?” Riku scoffs.  
  
“Too. Many. Feelings,” Vanitas presses. “And you’re trying to steal _my_ act? It’s just sad.  Know your fucking place.” His laugh is like a knife. “So what happened? Did you fall for me after a weekend fling? Did I break your heart?”  
  
Riku shakes his head. “Not hardly.”  
  
He snorts, “Whatever you say.”   
  
“I never even liked you. I know that now.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“Whatever I’ve been chasing… it wasn’t you. You were just close to it. I don’t like you at all. I might even hate you.”  
  
“Well,” Vanitas grins, “that’s a wise decision. Nothing spoils a good time faster than your delicate little feelings.”  
  
“Go to hell,” Riku mutters.   
  
Vanitas backs off. He seems to realize that this is a now a lost cause. But even so, his grin doesn’t waver. “Fine, then. What a waste. Have fun with your turtledove. You know where to find me if you ever need a good hatefuck.”  
  
Riku only glares at him in silence. He stays that way as Vanitas leaves, rooted to the spot until he finally hears the rumble of a motorbike disappear down the street. The entire flat is dead quiet.  
  
“Wow. Sora,” he releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His legs carry him towards the kitchen, where Sora will sometimes sneak back inside. “That was amazing.”  
  
He flicks on the lights. The kitchen is empty. Sora is nowhere to be found, even though the backdoor is unlocked.  
  
“Sora?” he calls, louder this time. Where did he go? There’s no way he could’ve crept upstairs without anyone noticing. Riku checks anyway. No good. All of the rooms are vacant.   
  
He plucks his phone from his pocket and types a quick message: ‘Where did you go? That was incredible.’  
  
Delivered. No answer.  
  
Riku narrows his eyes at the screen. ‘Hey,’  
  
Delivered. Still nothing.  
  
He calls. It goes straight to voicemail.   
  
Riku tries to shrug it off. Maybe Sora’s phone is dead. He has been known to neglect charging his devices, and even misplacing charging cables. Or maybe he had other plans and his phone is silenced. That could be it.  
  
His car is still parked outside. It’s also empty.  
  
Or maybe he’s hanging out with Roxas. He walks there from here sometimes. Riku would call and make sure, but he doesn’t have Roxas’s number. Not that Roxas ever wanted him to have it, anyway.  
  
It’s fine. No big deal.  
  
But wow. Sora’s act was incredible. Riku can’t get over it. It was so different. Usually, it’s all shouting and shoving, but that was… calm. Unnervingly calm. It actually reminds him of when they were kids. Whenever Sora was really upset, he just hid it behind a smile, and suffered while he was alone. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t fight.  
  
Riku stares down at the phone screen. No responses incoming. Uneasiness is gnawing at his insides.  
  
He didn’t raise his voice this time, either. This is the only time his acting wasn’t hysterical. Was it intentional?  
  
Riku dials another call. Again, it goes straight to voicemail.   
  
He was sobbing so quietly. He wasn’t making a scene… Because maybe it _wasn’t_ a scene. It wasn’t an _act_.  
  
Oh, shit.  
  
Riku bolts out of the front door. The nighttime streets are empty. There are barely any passing cars. “Sora!”  
  
There’s no answer.  
  
But his car is still parked nearby. He couldn’t have gotten far.   
  
Right. Sometimes he’ll walk to Roxas’s place. It’s only a couple blocks from here. Riku takes off running without giving it another thought. Please. Please, let Sora not get far away. If he’s already made it to Roxas, who knows what will happen. Roxas has already made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t like Riku at all, and if he’s able, he’ll make sure Riku never has a chance to fix anything. That can’t happen.  
  
Riku makes the two-block trek in record time. Without incident. Without running into anyone. He’s practically standing in front of Roxas’s door, but there’s still no sign of Sora. Of anyone.  
  
He swears and goes back to his phone. He tries calling again. Same result.  
  
He spends the next few hours roaming the blocks surrounding his apartment, calling Sora’s phone relentlessly. No luck. He’s not anywhere, and his phone is either off or dead.  
  
Riku skulks back inside, on the off-chance that Sora decided to return for his things. Of course he didn’t.  
  
Looks like he’ll have to wait. It’s the only thing he can do.  
  
He thumbs a few more frantic messages. He’s never been known for his patience, anyway. His texts have been delivered but not seen. He pulls a hand down his face. This is not good. Sora’s upset enough to completely ignore him. That is, if he’s actually upset.  
  
Who is he kidding? Sora disappeared in silence. It’s his trademark.  
  
Riku waits up for a long time, listening for any signs of life outside. There’s nothing at all. He eventually falls asleep on the sofa with his phone still in his hand.  
  
The next morning, he wakes up to zero missed calls, no messages, and no responses. Nothing.  
  
“ _Fuck_.”  
  
He tries calling Sora again. A force of habit. Still no answer. He throws his phone down onto the couch, swearing under his breath the whole time. Perfect. Just great. Now what?  
  
A groan rumbles in his throat.  He rubs his face with both hands, fingers threading back through knotty hair. It can’t end like this. He can’t _leave_ it like this.  Like hell he’ll give up. No way. So he jets upstairs, snatches up his car keys, and takes off out the door. Of course, Sora’s vehicle is still parked in the nearby lot, unmoved from the night before. Riku hopes it’s not a bad omen. He gets in his own car and heads straight for the first place he can think of: the cafe a few blocks over, where Sora and Roxas have their weekly meet-up.  
  
Unfortunately, upon arrival, there’s no sign of either of them.   
  
Back to Roxas’s place, then. If Sora really walked over there, everything should’ve calmed down by now, right? There’s nothing Roxas could say to make Sora completely give up on him… right?  
  
Well, if that’s true, then why isn’t Sora answering his damn phone?  
  
Whatever. Riku shakes off the thought. He’s at the student housing complex in another minute. He goes right up to Roxas’s unit and bangs on the door. There’s no answer here, either. But it’s hard to tell if Roxas is actually absent, or if he’s simply ignoring him. Riku tries knocking again, even louder this time. Still nothing. Is he really not home? Roxas usually relies on Axel for transportation, and it feels like Axel is here more often than not, but right now the redhead’s car is nowhere to be found.  
  
What the hell is going on?  
  
Where else is there? The theatre? Riku guesses it’s worth a shot. But it’s no good. The place is locked up tight. Summer break, and all. Where else? Where?  
  
He can’t think of anything.   
  
Only three places? He’s never wanted to kick himself harder in his life. He’s pathetic. The worst.   
  
There’s only one thing left for him to do. A true act of desperation. He tries asking the internet. The ChocoBook app on his phone flares to life for the first time in a long while. There are so many notifications cluttering the screen, but they don’t matter. According to the app, he and Sora’s last conversation was thirteen months ago.  
  
He doesn’t feel good about that. Not at all.  
  
But he closes it all out. His public post is simple. Bare-boned.  
  
‘Has anyone seen my best friend?’  
  
There are several chimes from the phone while he drives back to his apartment, mostly from people he barely knows or used-to-know. A few unhelpful likes. A handful of comments wondering what he’s talking about.  
  
He makes it all the way home without a single clue or helpful response. The phone goes flying towards the sofa for the second time that day. Damn it. He feels sick. His heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest, and there’s a monster of a headache creeping over him. It’s like… a bad trip. Fuck. Did he even eat breakfast today? He can’t remember. Probably not. He collapses onto the couch with another loud groan.  
  
He’s really done it this time. He mutters swear after swear at himself. And the worst part is, he’s not sure exactly _what_ he’s done wrong. But whatever it is, it harmed Sora to his core. Isn’t that unforgivable?   
  
His phone pings again. It’s another notification. A comment. But this time it’s from Axel.  
  
‘Yo. Add me. I’ll PM you the details.’  
  
Riku does so immediately, and deletes the original post for good measure. Finally! An answer!  
  
Axel’s message comes through a minute later:  
  
‘So, there’s been an accident. I’m at the hospital on South Main. Meet me in the caf in 10 minutes.’   
  
Riku doesn’t respond. There’s no time. He slips on his shoes, grabs his things, and is out the door in ten seconds flat.   
  
  
.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the dreaded cliffhanger. 
> 
> Wow, it took me way longer to finish this chapter than I wanted. Holy hell. I’ve been so busy. You don’t have to worry about that happening this time around, though. Especially with that cliffhanger. Chapter 5 has been finished for months. Even before Chapter 1, I think. I’ll probably post it in a week or so. Time and point-of-view get a little strange in the next one.
> 
> Today’s title is brought to you by Unlike Pluto: “Everything Black.” The genre is electronic! I told you it would be different this time why didn’t you believe me? And I don’t usually push my music tastes onto anyone unless I know them really well, but I’ve literally never met anyone who didn’t like this song, so… take that as you will. I’ll shout Unlike Pluto’s name from the proverbial rooftops ‘til the end of time.
> 
> I guess that’s all I have to say about this one. Please leave your tears in the glass by the door on your way out!


	5. The Show Must Go On

_Chapter 5) The Show Must Go On_  
  
[Inside, my heart is breaking,  
My makeup may be flaking,  
But my smile still stays on.]  
  
  
  
Riku drops him off at home, and Sora stands in the silence of his darkened room for who knows how long. The clock on the far wall clicks past midnight.  
  
What the hell just happened?  
  
Did he—?  
  
Did _they_ just _—_?  
  
Sora brings a hand to his face, fingertips pressing down on tightly sealed lips. He can still feel it. The warmth of fire and electricity. And in the dead quiet of the  room, he mumbles, “What the fuck?”   
  
He’s overthinking it. He knows he is. Of _course_ he is! But… it violated the terms of their agreement. Something like _that…_ it wasn’t what they agreed on! In fact, it was far and beyond what they agreed on! Probably. Sort of. Maybe he’s overreacting. After all, that sort of thing—something menial like that—it doesn’t mean anything to someone like Riku.   
  
And even though Sora _knows_ that, he’s still…  
  
He grumbles at the fluttering in his chest. Just _stop_. Please. This is nothing but torture. Don’t enjoy it. _Why_ is he so glad  over something so _empty_?   
  
He’s such an idiot.   
  
That wasn’t his first. It wasn’t even real. It was just an act! It doesn’t count!  
  
It _doesn’t count_.  
  
Why did Riku have to pull a stunt like that? Sora’s thoughts are whirling around so fast they’re giving him a fever. What was the purpose of it? What was the point of _any of it_? Did they even accomplish what they set out to do? Whatever it was?  
  
A sigh drops from his lungs. Sora’s been dragged along behind  this vehicle so long, he can’t even remember where it’s going. Maybe just in circles. A race with no winner. Just tiredness. And all the rocks being kicked up into his face. All for nothing.   
  
He can’t do this anymore. He can’t keep being a fail-safe. A joke. A prop. Whatever he is. He’s too invested. And Riku… is not.   
  
He’s just not.   
  
Sora told Roxas, practically promised him, that this was going to be the end of the charade. And it has to be. This act has been so much harder than he ever dreamed it would be. His skills have been tested and boundaries have been shattered. It’s enough, he thinks. It’s more than enough.   
  
He leaves the house and gets in his car. He has to do it now, while he still has the motivation. He cranks an old pop song loud for the drive. So loud he can’t think. He can’t talk himself out of it. It seems to be working. He makes it to Riku’s place and just barely hesitates before getting out of the car.   
  
This is going to suck. He ignores the nervous gnashing in his guts and makes his way to the front door. It’s unlocked. He opens it just in time to see Riku step towards Vanitas and desperately press their lips together.   
  
Oh.  
  
Sora pauses with door still open. He doesn’t even take his hand from the knob. A feeling like emptiness swallows him up. Sora has to admit it to himself. He’s exhausted. He doesn’t think he can do this anymore. Any of it. He’s the only one trying, and he can’t do this on his own. Something’s gotta give.  
  
He’s… through.  
  
He’s actually…  
  
Riku doesn’t look shocked, or even mildly upset that he’s here. If Sora had to guess, it’s as if he’s just spotted his escape route.  
  
Sora brings his head down. He only feels tired. “Why do I even bother?” he sighs. “I keep thinking—hoping it’ll be different, but… Maybe I’ve been fooling myself this whole time.” A laugh gets tangled in his throat. He can already feel the inevitable tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m such an idiot.”  
  
Standing behind Riku, Vanitas grins like he’s watching some elaborate show. Sora can understand why. Everything so far has been nothing but an act. None of it was ever real.   
  
“Maybe this really can’t be salvaged,” Sora’s voice quivers again. Is this it? He feels a sob ripple through him. The end of everything? “Maybe it’s time I finally give up,” he murmurs, and feels his heart drop to the floor. There’s nothing but hurt. Maybe it’s time.  
  
“Sora—”  
  
“Sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.” He feels his self-control slipping away. He can’t keep this up. It’s time to go. So he turns and shuts the door, leaving everything behind. His car. His friend. His hope. He turns his phone off and shuts it all out.  
  
All of it. He walks away.  
  
He heads towards Roxas’s place with a bleeding hole in his chest. It threatens to eat him alive.   
  
Sora keeps his hand glued over his mouth as he walks. The tears just keep coming. His voice is fighting to cry out, dragging its nails all along his throat. But he won’t let it go. His lips try to part, and the other hand clamps down as well. He can’t stop the shaking in his shoulders, or the awful, stabbing pain through his chest.  
  
He makes his way down the empty sidewalk, letting the tears drip over his hands and through his fingers. There’s nothing inside him anymore. His jaw is aching from clenching his teeth.  
  
His legs suddenly stop—just outside of a pool of streetlight. It hits him all at once. “Oh god,” he whispers into his hands. That voice is shattered into pieces. “Oh god, oh god...” Eyes screw shut, and he just stands there. Trembling. Sobbing harder than he ever has before. “… same… ever…” He rubs furiously at his face. There are so many tears. They just _won’t stop_. “… idiot…  that _idiot_.”  They splatter onto the concrete like raindrops at his feet.  
  
Then a car slows up beside him. “Sora? Is that you?” It’s Axel’s voice. “Are you heading to Roxy’s too? It’s Bro Night!”  
  
Sora can’t respond. His throat has cinched itself shut. He can’t even look at him.  
  
“B-bro Night…” he sounds crestfallen. “Hey… Are you alright?”  
  
He can only shake his head and sniff. There are tears and snot everywhere.  
  
“Hey, buddy. What happened?” Axel’s voice is genuine and gentle. “Sora, what’s wrong?”  
  
He carefully opens his mouth to answer, but only sobs come out. He ends up curling in over himself, biting down hard onto his lip, howling towards the ground.  
  
The car changes gears, and then Axel is out and standing next to him. “You’re worrying me, here… Just breathe, okay? Breathe….” He gingerly grabs Sora by the shoulders. “C’mon. Get in. Sit down. We’ll talk. Okay?”  
  
Sora keeps his face covered. He still can’t speak. He only nods and makes sounds. He lets Axel lead him over to the car and place him in the passenger’s seat. Axel returns to his spot behind the wheel and begins driving aimlessly through the dim sidestreets. He gives Sora all he time he needs to gather his words. To calm down. If only a little bit. The quiet rumble of the car is soothing. Sora presses the heels of his palms into his watering eyes. “Why doesn’t he ever pick me?” he finally mumbles. Axel makes a confused noise. “I keep hoping… believing… But nothing ever changes. We’re supposed to be friends, but he never, ever picks me.” He sniffs loudly. “Stupid… Riku is so stupid…”  
  
Axel gives an aggravated sigh. “What did he do?”  
  
“He’s an idiot,” Sora seethes. “I _try_ , ya know. I try… so hard… but I guess I’m wasting my time. Roxas and Kairi are right. He has no intention of coming back. He’s going to crash and burn and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I should’ve given up a long time ago. I should’ve _known…_ ” He rubs at his eyes, puling in a trembling breath. “So why does it hurt so much?”  
  
“Because he’s your friend,” Axel says. “Even if he isn’t a very good one.”  
  
His laugh is bitter. “I guess you’re right…. I just feel used.”  
  
“As you should. He used you like a Get Out of Jail Free card. When he needed it.” Sora hears him shift in his seat. “You don’t deserve that. You get me? You deserve so much _better_ than that. And this isn’t coming from Axel: Roxas’s best friend, this is coming from Axel: _your_ friend. So believe me, Sora, you’re amazing. I wish you wouldn’t waste your tears on that guy.”  
  
Another sniffle, and he wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Thanks,” he hiccups. “I needed that.”  
  
Axel grins, throwing out a thumbs-up. “Anytime.”  
  
“I just wish I knew _why_ …”   
  
Before Axel can respond, his cellphone rings. The ringtone is a girl’s voice screeching something in Korean. Wait, is that a K-pop song? Axel sighs. “Larxene.” He stares tiredly at the screen, and then glances back to Sora. “I don’t have to answer this, if you don’t want me to.”  
  
He shakes his head. “Go ahead. I mean, her ringtone is… ‘ _Shut Up,_ ’ right? Yoo Seung Jun? That’s pretty telling. You can’t ignore that.”  
  
Axel appears dumbfounded. He points at Sora like he’s just had a brilliant idea. “Sora, we’ve been talking about the wrong things this entire friendship. I had no idea you had such good taste.”  
  
Sora just laughs softly.  
  
Axel answers the call. “Hey, Lark, what’s up? Do you need something? You know it’s Bro Night.”  
  
“No, I don’t need anything,” she says. Her tone is rather harsh. Sora can hear her well enough through the phone. “I just wanted to tell you that this isn’t working out.” And Sora’s heart skips a beat.  
  
Axel narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean _us_ , you dope,” she grumbles. “You haven’t been in this relationship for months. Don’t try to deny it. I need someone that’s actually going to care about me. So I’m breaking it off.”  
  
“And you’re doing it over the phone,” he snorts. “After two years? That’s really nice of you. Don’t you think we should talk about this?”  
  
“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re through. Come get your things tomorrow.”  
  
The call suddenly cuts off. Axel sighs, staring down at the phone with unfocused eyes. “Hey, Sora?”  
  
“Detour?”  
  
He’s already turning the car around. “Detour.”  
  
Sora grins, his voice still so weak. “Let’s do it. It’s Bro Night.”  
  
They arrive at Larxene’s place a few minutes later. Axel steps out of the car, and impatiently pats the top. “I’ll be back in a sec. Hang tight.”  
  
“You got it,” he nods.  
  
It starts out normal enough. Well, as normal as an explosive break-up can be, Sora supposes. Axel beats on the front door, and Larxene is yelling at him before she even opens it. Sora can only make out some of it. “What are you doing here?” is repeated quite a few times. Axel storms inside. He doesn’t raise his voice, so Sora has no idea what he’s saying. Larxene is screeching now.  
  
And then Axel is shouting too. What the—?  
  
Sora turns off the interior lights before popping his door open. The only thing he can understand is Axel saying, “What the hell is this?”  
  
There’s a huge crash, and Larxene shouts, “What are you doing!?” Sora almost leaps from the car. What the hell is going on? Nervousness creeps over his shoulders.  
  
It sounds… like a fight.   
  
“Oh, shit,” Sora whispers. He can’t decide which is worse: Axel laying a hand on Larxene, or Larxene managing to hurt Axel.  
  
He doesn’t have to wonder long. A moment later, Axel stumbles out of the front door, throwing punches with some guy with pink hair.   
  
Sora grits his teeth. Another guy?  
  
Larxene stands on the porch as the two fighters tumble into the yard. She has… Is that a kitchen knife in her hand? “Axel, don’t hurt him! Don’t even try it!”  
  
Sora sits completely still, hidden by the shadows in the car. Axel and the other guy continue their brawl, throwing fists that sometimes land, struggling for the upper-hand. Larxene remains shrieking on the porch. The two suddenly stumble over the edge of the sidewalk and fall near the street. The flow shifts in an instant. The pink-haired guy lands on top. He keeps Axel pinned down and begins raining punches down upon his head.  
  
“Shit,” Sora exclaims, and darts out of his hiding place. He rams into the pink-haired guy at full speed, wrapping his arms around the guy’s shoulders. “Back off!” And they roll away from Axel in a heap. Sora clings tightly to the guy’s back.  
  
“What the—?”  
  
Axel scrambles to his feet. “Sora!”  
  
Everyone is shouting now. Sora holds on as tight as he can. The pink-haired guy flails, trying to break out of Sora’s hold. He soon gets a hand around the boy’s arm, pries him loose, and violently throws him off. Sora watches the world spin. The concrete rushes towards him, and then everything goes black.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Riku finds Axel sitting nonchalantly in the hospital’s cafeteria. There’s a cup of soda in his hand and the remnants of a hot dog in front of him on the table. The skin beneath his left eye is an unsightly shade of purple.  
  
Axel spots Riku marching up to him and smiles. It’s threateningly sweet. He doesn’t even greet him. “Come. Sit down. We need to have a talk.”  
  
“Where’s Sora?” he demands.  
  
“Sit first.”  
  
“I said—”  
  
Axel suddenly kicks the chair across from him. It clatters until it’s sticking out, ready to be used. “ _Sit_.” That green glare could slice Riku to ribbons. He has no choice. He sits down.  “For right now, I’ll confirm that he’s okay.”  
  
He breathes a huge sigh of relief. “What happened?”  
  
“Why don’t you tell me?” Axel challenges.  
  
Riku doesn’t like his tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
Then Axel holds up a hand. “Actually. No. Shut up. You don’t get to talk. I get to tell you everything. I’m about to lay the truth down upon you, and you’re not gonna like it.” Then he chuckles, “Screw it, I hope you don’t. _You_ weren’t there. _You_ didn’t see Sora’s face. _You_ didn’t see him standing on the side of the road sobbing so hard he literally couldn’t speak. And just to let you know: yes, it was your fault.” Riku opens his mouth to  respond. “Don’t interrupt me,” Axel snaps. “Now, I don’t know exactly what you _did_ , but I know you _really_ fucked up. And honestly, I don’t care about your side of the story at all, because there’s _nothing_ you could say to convince me that what you put Sora through was necessary. He didn’t, doesn’t, and never will deserve that, as far as I’m concerned. But _you_ deserve to feel like a piece of shit. So I want you to imagine Sora’s face. Imagine him crying. The saddest, most gut-wrenching cry you can think of. And just know that whatever you’re imagining, it was actually much, much worse.”   
  
Riku’s only response is running a hand down his face. Axel won’t let him speak, anyway.  
  
“So,” he grins, “did you notice anything on your search for Sora? I mean, aside from the fact that you were completely incapable of finding him.” Riku glares at him. Axel takes a sip of soda. “His phone was turned off. Whatever did you do?”  
  
“I looked for him.” His voice is annoyingly hoarse.  
  
“Yeah? Where?”  
  
“Outside… Roxas’s…” he drones. “And this morning, I went to the usual places. Even though his car is still parked outside my place.”  
  
“Usual places?” he asks with a cheeky lilt.  
  
“The usual places,” Riku repeats. He doesn’t have to prove anything to Axel.  
  
The redhead smirks. “You went to the cafe, didn’t you?”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Where else?”  
  
There it is. He knows exactly what Axel is getting at, and it annoys him. It annoys him even more that he doesn’t have an answer.  
  
“You don’t know of any other places Sora might go? Where else he might hang out?”   
  
“I get the point,” Riku mutters.  
  
“No, I don’t think you do,” he retorts. “Let me ask you: before today, when was the last time you sent Sora a message on any form of social media?”  
  
He remembers the date far too readily. He only read it once. “About a year ago.”  
  
Axel nods. “Right. And that post you made earlier… you asked if anyone had seen your best friend, but no one on your friend list even knew _who_ that was.”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
“At the very least, it means you don’t talk about Sora to other people. But I guarantee, _all_ of Sora’s other friends know who you are. He talks about you a _lot_.”  He’s met with nothing but silence. “So. You’re lucky.”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“I’m like your guardian angel.”  
  
“ I don’t want to hear that from someone with a glob of mustard on their face.”  
  
He immediately swipes it off. “It’s true. Because right now, there are only two people who know how badly you fucked up last night.” He leans across the table, voice low and threatening. “And maybe, you’ll get your shit together and be able to fix it.”   
  
Riku narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”  
  
“So here’s what happened,” Axel ignores him. “Not even Roxas knows the truth, okay? As far as he knows, I showed up after-the-fact.” Then he waves his hand, “And don’t even try to snitch on me. That’s not gonna work. One: Roxas won’t believe you over me. Two: Mutually Assured Destruction. You snitch on me; I snitch on you. You get me?” Riku can only nod. “Good. Last night, I was on my way to Roxy’s for Bro Night, and I happen to see some pathetic little shadow moping on the sidewalk. I thought it was some lost kid, but it turns out, it was Sora—crying his eyes out over something _you_ did. He  was a broken mess. That cry of his isn’t cute at all. Anyway, I talk him down and invite him to Bro Night. Then I get a call from my crazy ex-girlfriend.”  
  
“Ex?”  
  
“I’m getting there,” Axel grumbles. “She breaks it off out of nowhere over the phone. Right then and there. Sora and I go to her place to see what’s up. Turns out she’s been cheating on me, for a while, too… but shit like that happens. Unfortunately. No big deal. The relationship is over,” he shrugs. “It’s too bad for Marluxia that he happened to be there when I showed up. I got to expedite his ass-kicking. Which is where this came from.” He points to the huge bruise beneath his eye. “We were slugging it out outside, and I guess… Marluxia got the jump on me for a second… and Sora jumped out of the car and tackled him off of me.” Riku’s mouth falls open. “They wrestled for a moment, but Sora isn’t a big guy, you know. He’s kinda puny. Marluxia was able to throw him like a frisbee. … And his head hit the curb,” Axel mumbles. Riku brings a hand to his head, exhaling slowly. “There was a lot of blood. He was out cold. Larxene and Marluxia freaked out and bounced, so I had to call the ambulance. And here we are.”  
  
Riku is quiet for a long time. “Is he still unconscious?”  
  
“He woke up a little while ago.” Axel leans back in his chair. “They’re running a few tests. If everything is alright, he’ll be released later today.”  
  
“Can I see him?”  
  
And Axel heaves a long sigh. “Honestly, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea or a horrible one. But I won’t keep you from him. The only one you need to worry about is Roxas. He definitely doesn’t want to see your face.”  
  
“I don’t care what he wants,” Riku scowls.  
  
He just shrugs, like he expected that answer. “As long as you’re prepared for a fight. I’ll help you out the best I can.”  
  
His eyes turn suspicious. “Why would you help me?”  
  
Axel grins, and holds his arms out wide. “Guardian angel, remember? I’m making sure you get a chance to fix everything. But don’t get me wrong: it’s not for you. It’s for Sora. So, do it for him. Get your shit together. He deserves it.”  
  
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I know.”   
  
“Good,” he speaks while standing. “Now let’s do this. I’ll pull Roxas away, but I can’t guarantee you more than ten minutes.”   
  
“Okay.” It’ll have to be enough.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Sora wonders if it’s even possible to feel lightheaded when he has no idea where his body is. He’s floating in a fog, with no idea where or when or what. He tries feeling out around himself to gather his bearings. It’s cold. A barely uncomfortable cold—like a frigid office, or sitting in a classroom right next to the AC unit. What the heck? What happened?  
  
He slowly comes to notice the subtle pressure of bandages wrapped around his skull, and a pounding headache that could knock him down. He twitches and realizes gravity. Sitting upright, but also lying down? That’s odd.   
  
There’s a sour gnawing in his stomach too. Oh, man. Did he eat something weird?  
  
No, he… His mind grasps at wisps of smoke. He was with Axel and… jumped into a fight and got thrown off. Into a curb. Right. That’s what happened… Holy shit, is he in the hospital?  
  
How did he get into a fight with a stranger, anyway? Axel was fighting the guy because… of Larxene. His memories slowly piece themselves back together. They broke up. She was cheating on him. With the pink-haired guy. Damn. Poor Axel.   
  
And he was with Axel because…  
  
Oh. Right.  
  
The night finally rewinds, and he’s standing in that doorway and feeling the stabbing in his chest all over again. Why couldn’t he have just forgotten it? If the pink-haired guy was going to knock him unconscious, he could’ve at least hit him hard enough to erase a few unpleasant memories.   
  
And now the exhaustion and disappointment will come crashing down a second time. Before he can even open his eyes. “Fuck.”  
  
The rustle of clothing. “Sora? Are you awake?” That’s Roxas. “C’mon, talk to me.” He sounds so fretful. It’s totally out of character.  
  
Sora opens his eyes. The overhead lights are stinging. Roxas stands by his side. He clearly hasn’t slept at all. Was he really that worried?  
  
“Hey,” Roxas smiles as he meets his gaze.  
  
It’s so bizarre to see Roxas this way—so twitchy and nervous—and Sora can’t help himself. “Who are you?”  
  
Roxas’s face turns completely blank. Slack-jawed and everything.   
  
Sora grins. “I’m kidding.”  
  
The blonde immediately punches his arm. Hard.  
  
“ _Ow w!_”  
  
“Don’t fucking do that!” Roxas snaps.  
  
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry, Roxy. I remember you.” Roxas rolls his eyes at the moniker. “But wow, that graduation party was wild,” he jokes again.  
  
Concern twists his cousin’s face. “Graduation?” He is clearly not picking up on the joke. That’s unexpected. He’s usually so quick on the uptake. “ _High school_ graduation?”  
  
Sora can’t back down now. Roxas will flip. He’ll just have to milk it until he catches on. “Yeah,” he says like it’s so obvious. “What else would I mean?”  
  
Roxas takes a long, deep breath. “Oh, fuck.”  
  
‘Fuck,’ is right. He’s not catching on! At this rate, Sora will either have to face the wrath of Roxas, or fake like he has amnesia of the past two years!  All of university: gone!  
  
Actually… that doesn’t sound so bad.  
  
Sora takes it as a challenge for himself. Let’s see how long he can keep this up. “What’s the matter?”  
  
Roxas shakes his head. “Sora, you…” he trails off. The pause is unbearable.  
  
Time to kick it up a notch. “What is it? Why do you look so sad?” he accelerates. “Was I in a coma? How long was I out!?” He’s almost leaning out of the hospital bed now.  
  
Roxas plants both hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down. “No, it’s not like that! You were just knocked out last night.”  
  
Sora pulls in a deep, relieved breath. “Oh.”  
  
“But…” he chews on his lip. “Sora… graduation was two years ago. We just finished our second year of uni last week.”  
  
Sora tries his best to replicate the blank, anxious look Roxas gave him earlier.   
  
“It’s okay,” he reassures, and Sora finds himself in awe of his cousin’s genuine support and compassion. “I’m sure it’s temporary. You’ll be back to yourself in no time. I’m gonna go find the doctor, okay? You stay put. Don’t do anything stupid.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Roxas scurries from the room, and still doesn’t pick up on the joke. Sora is surprisingly okay with that. He doesn’t mind pulling this act. It’s much more comfortable than acting like a jilted lover in order to scare off a one-night-stand that’s overstayed their welcome.  
  
Sora brings a hand to the wrap of gauze around his head, and remembers the events that brought him here. If only he could _really_ go back one or two years…  
  
Maybe he’ll keep this up a bit longer.  
  
Besides, he’d rather be _out_ of the hospital when Roxas  finds out and decides to utterly destroy him. That’s a fair request, right?  
  
When Roxas returns with a physician, Sora asks for some privacy during the evaluation. He claims that it’s “a lot to take in.” Roxas doesn’t argue. He leaves the room without another word.  
  
Sora thanks the stars for the Hippocratic Oath, and doctor-patient confidentiality.  
  
According to the doctor, he has a concussion, but there are no signs of any serious damage. He only needs to take it easy for a week or so.  
  
Then the doctor asks if he plans on pressing charges against Marluxia—who, Sora assumes, is the pink-haired guy that threw him head-first into a row of concrete. It seems like a lot of trouble for something that was ultimately an accident, so he decides against it. Besides, pressing charges would make pranking Roxas that much harder.  
  
“We’re going to monitor you for a few more hours. If everything is okay, you’ll be out of here by this afternoon,” the doctor smiles. She has a long braid of hair down her back and smells like patchouli.   
  
“Great.”   
  
Roxas returns as soon as the doctor leaves, only this time it’s with Axel in tow.  
  
Damn. Sora didn’t realize it at first, but he’s only known Axel for two years. For this act, he’ll have to forget about him entirely. Pretend like he doesn’t know him at all.  
  
He apologizes profusely in his mind as he lets confusion settle over his face.  
  
Axel’s smile is so relieved too. This sucks. “Hey, buddy. Good morning.”   
  
Sora narrows his stare. Come on. Friendly, but unsure. “Morning…?”  
  
Roxas grabs Axel’s arm and gives him a shake. “See, I told you!”  
  
Axel brings an arm behind his head and sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. This is serious.” Sora starts to ask something, but then Axel reaches out and pats him firmly on the shoulder. “Name’s Axel. You may not remember this, but Roxas and I are best friends, which means you and I are pretty good friends too. Memorize it this time, alright? We bond over Bro Night, our love of strange pizza toppings, and K-pop.”  
  
Sora’s smile is genuine. “K-pop is awesome.”  
  
“You see!?” Axel shouts at Roxas. “Finally, there’s someone with taste around here.”  
  
The blonde rolls his eyes. “Sora doesn’t remember who you are, and you’re worried about _Korean_ _music_?”  
  
He merely shrugs. “What else can I do? I’m not gonna force him to remember while he still has a concussion. That would put way too much strain on him.”  
  
Roxas has that indignant look on his face, where he knows Axel is right but really doesn’t want to admit it.  
  
“You heard the Doc,” Axel continues. “We just gotta wait it out.”  
  
“Are you a Psych major or something?” Sora asks, even though he already knows the answer.   
  
He gives a thumbs up. “You got it.” There’s a short pause. Axel’s grin slowly fades. “So you really don’t remember me, huh?” Sora shakes his head. Axel looks so disappointed. “Damn… That stinks.”  
  
Roxas nods. “The last two years are completely blacked out.”  
  
“Wait a minute…” Axel mumbles. “That means I’m free and clear.”  
  
“What are you on about now?”   
  
“Just think about it, Roxas. Sora doesn’t remember the past two years. That means he doesn’t remember any of the bad things you’ve done or said to him within that time frame. You’ve got a clean slate!” He suddenly stops, and stares into the distance as if he just remembered something important. Roxas and Sora give him similar, skeptical glances. Axel points at them. “I’ll be right back.” And he scurries from the room.  
  
Sora leans onto his knees. “He seems nice.”  
  
Roxas isn’t listening to him at all. “What the hell is he up to?” he mutters at the closing door.  
  
He has to stifle his grin. He just can’t let an opportunity like this pass him by. “So… are you two dating, or—”  
  
Roxas instantly whips around. “ _No_!” he snaps. Oh, man. His face is so red. It takes all of Sora’s willpower to keep himself from laughing. “Why would you ask that!?”  
  
He shrugs. “I dunno. You two seem really close, so I just wondered…”  
  
“Well, we’re not,” Roxas grumbles, plopping down into a chair.  
  
“ Alright. Sorry. I didn’t know that was a Berserk Button,” he mumbles. Roxas remains silent, glaring at the tile floor. Sora tries the one thing he does best: lightening the mood: “So, that guy Axel… does the carpet match the drapes?”  
  
Roxas answers without missing a beat: “Yes.”  
  
Whoa. His eyebrows fly upwards. “How—?”  
  
“We got really drunk one night and I asked him the same question,” he shrugs.  
  
Sora nods quietly. “Not to self: never get drunk with Axel. Strange things happen.”  
  
“That’s not bad advice, actually,” Roxas snickers. “I should start following it.”  
  
They sit there for a while longer, chatting about nothing and watching some dumb game show on daytime television. Reaching for a sense of normalcy.  
  
Sora begins to feel the guilt creeping in. Axel’s disappointed face will be forever painted in his memory. He has to tell them the truth. Maybe Roxas will go easy on him since he’s in a hospital bed. Maybe. But he doesn’t like lying to them. It was just a joke that went too far. He got carried away. Yeah. It was a nice sentiment—something that he wanted to regain, or hold on to—but he has to let it go.   
  
Sora decides. As soon as Axel comes back, he’ll tell them both the truth.   
  
But Axel is gone for a long time. Half an hour or more. And when he finally returns, he only sticks his head in the door and calls for Roxas.   
  
“C’mon,” he waves. “I have an idea.”  
  
Roxas rolls his eyes, but he goes to him anyway. “This better not take long.” The door closes, and they’re gone.  
  
Okay, Sora thinks, as soon as they _both_ come back. That’s when he’ll come clean.  He takes a few deep breaths to brace himself. Bite the bullet.  
  
The door opens again. He has to say it now.  
  
“Sora.” That’s not Roxas or Axel. He looks up and meets Riku’s relieved stare. “You’re okay.”  
  
He stops breathing. Why? He already feels the stupid grin pulling at his lips. Why is he glad? After everything… he’s actually _happy to see him_?  
  
“Thank goodness,” Riku sighs. “I looked all over for you.”  
  
‘Really?’ Sora thinks. He doesn’t say it aloud. His mouth is still glued shut. He’s afraid if he opens it he might cry and scream instead of speak.  
  
He takes quick steps towards the bed, but suddenly stops short. There’s a strange, pained look in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?” Sora curses the smile on his face. That question was supposed to be an accusation. He doubts Riku knows what he’s supposed to be sorry about. But that tone was almost like…  
  
Riku’s face drops into that same blank expression Roxas put on earlier, “What do you mean?” as if Sora is the crazy one.   
  
As if he forgot. “Did Roxas not tell you?” What is he doing? He brings a hand up to his head wound. “My memory is a little… hazy.” This isn’t what he decided! What happened to the truth!? “The last two years, actually… I don’t remember any of it.” He’s terrible. Awful.  
  
Riku walks carefully towards him, and sits on the edge of the nearby chair. “Are you serious?”  
  
“Yeah,” he nods. “Roxas is really freaking out about it… and that other guy, Axel.” That seems to seal it, and Riku lets out a long, slow breath. “So… what are you sorry about?”  
  
He suddenly looks worried. “Oh—we kind of… It was just an argument,” he covers. “I was being stupid… and you stormed off. And then you got into an accident before I…” He buries his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Sora feels the warmth spreading through his chest again. He’s such a sap. A fool. He’ll always forgive Riku. No matter what. There’s no escaping it. Sora is so tired, but he’ll always, _always_ forgive him. “Well, I don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he lies through a smile, “so I guess I have to forgive you.”   
  
Riku laughs through his nose. “So… now what?”  
  
“I dunno,” Sora shrugs, “they told me to take it easy for a while… and that I shouldn’t try to remember too much at once. It’s a strain, ya know…”  
  
“Yeah, that makes sense,” he mumbles. Sora watches him wring his hands together, like there’s still so much left to say. So much that Sora no longer remembers.  
  
Another wave of guilt washes over him. He really is the worst.  
  
“Look,” Riku mumbles, “we can talk about everything later. When you’re feeling better. Okay?”  
  
Sora nods. “Sure.”  
  
“Because right now, I’m just glad you’re alright.” He’s staring at the floor. There’s a strained-looking smile on his face. He actually means it. “I should probably go before Roxas comes back. I really don’t feel like arguing with him today.”  
  
Sora tilts his head a bit. “He doesn’t know you’re here?”  
  
“No,” he answers as he stands. That explains a lot. “But I’ll stop by your place and see you later. If you’re up for it.”  
  
“You bet,” he grins. Why is it always so easy to fall back into this pattern?  
  
“Yeah. We’ll watch a movie or something. I have to keep my promise.” And the smile vanishes from his face, his voice dropping low. “But I guess you don’t remember that, huh?”  
  
Another stab through his chest. Sora almost winces. He’s so sorry.  
  
“But that’s fine. We’ll order pizza and watch Disney movies. Sound good?”  
  
He slowly leans forward. “What kind of pizza?”  
  
Riku puts on a knowing sort of smirk. “The weirdest one they’ve got.”  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
“Great. I’ll see you later.” He turns and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, and Sora’s smile fades away.  
  
This isn’t good. He couldn’t stop himself. It’s gotten out of control. How is he ever supposed to come clean now? Say it was all a joke? Maybe he could fake regaining his memories too… No, that’s just more lying! He’ll have to tell them all eventually. Once the dust settles, and they’re not so worked up over it… Yeah. That might work. Put it off til later.  
  
In the meantime, there’s no reason he shouldn’t enjoy this act. He kind of wants it. It’s not hurting anyone. He’s already put himself into the situation; now he just has to go with it.   
  
  
.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see, the funny thing is that Sora’s accident was pretty much /completely unrelated/ to anything that happened in Chapter 4, ahahaha. 
> 
> And now that Axel has finally made his full-on debut I can say that he’s my favourite character in this entire fic. Seriously, he’s great. He’s wild in the best way. And those MONOLOGUES. Bless him. And bless Sora. Poor thing. He’s been through so much.
> 
> The chapter title was very misleading this time around. This whole chapter was misleading. I might’ve gotten carried away… Anyway! Chapter title brought to you by Queen: “The Show Must Go On.” Genre: Stadium rock/classic rock. Is this even necessary? Who doesn’t know Queen? Even if you don’t think you know Queen, you know Queen. … … Yeah, that sentence makes sense. I mean, Queen is hardly that vague AJR reference I made in Chapter 3... Honestly. And if you’ve never heard the song that is Axel’s ringtone, I’d highly recommend listening to it at least once. You might get a laugh. Axel is ridiculous.
> 
> Oh my god Chapter 6 is going to be so looong and it’s not even done yet someone please save me


	6. The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows

_Chapter 6)_ _The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows_  
  
[I lie for only you.  
And I lie well.]  
  
  
  
True to her word, Kairi calls him the following week. She sounds tired. Her university operates on a slightly different schedule than Sora’s, so she’s just finished her semester. Finals must’ve been rough.  
  
“I’m so exhausted I could sleep for a decade,” she laments. “But forget about me. How did it go with Riku? Are you okay?”  
  
The words hesitate in his mouth. What does he say? Does he lie to her too? His eyes search over the patterned ceiling of his bedroom. “I don’t know.”  
  
Her response is almost frantic: “What do you mean you don’t know? What happened?”  
  
“Hey, Kai…” he tries a different approach. “I can trust you with a huge secret, right?”  
  
“Sora, what did you do?” she demands.  
  
He wildly waves his hands around. It’s a meaningless gesture through the phone. “It’s nothing like that! I swear!” She huffs. Not convinced. “So, can I trust you not to tell anyone? _Anyone_?”  
  
“Of course you can, you goofball,” she grumbles. “Tell me what happened already. You’re worrying me.”  
  
“Well…” He rubs at the back of his neck. That stupid nervous tick. “Last week really went down in flames. Spectacularly. And I think… I’ve finally had enough.”  
  
Kairi takes the deepest breath. “Sora… I’m so sorry. I know it must be killing you.” Only a little. “Want me to beat him up?”  
  
“You don’t have to do that,” he laughs.  
  
“What did he do this time?”  
  
Sora doesn’t know where to begin. “The whole act… This time, I think it was to make someone jealous. Or one-up him. I dunno. But… let’s just say, my first kiss wasn’t as special as I hoped it would be. And that’s not even the worst part…” He decides to omit the rest, for his own sake, if nothing else. He’s already trapped in that doorway in his nightmares.  
  
The silence that follows is like a hateful void. Kairi responds through clenched teeth: “I’m gonna smash his face in.”  
  
“Kairi.”  
  
“No, Sora! That is—it’s so wrong that I can’t even _believe—_! He makes me so mad!”  
  
“Yeah… I know.”  
  
Another long sigh. “I don’t know him anymore.”  
  
Honestly, neither does Sora. “And then some other things happened and, well… now I’m putting on my own act. I’m lying to everyone. Even Roxas. Isn’t that wrong too?”  
  
Kairi pauses. “I don’t understand.”  
  
“It’s a long story...” but he has to tell it. He briefly relays the events of that night: running into Axel; the street brawl; and the fake amnesia that started out as a bad joke.  
  
She doesn’t say anything for a really long time. “Sora, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“You’re insane.”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“Is it working?”  
  
He grins the smallest bit. “It is so far.”  
  
She laughs like a defense mechanism—like there’s no other response for it. “You’re going to be famous one day, you hear me?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah, and  then we’ll live in a big house on the beach with a bunch of dogs. Every weekend we’ll get drunk on the balcony and talk shit about Riku and mourn the person he used to be.”  
  
Sora would burst out laughing if it weren’t so true. “Ya know, we can do some of those things _now_.”  
  
“Name a time and place, and it’s a date,” she chirps.  
  
“I’ll have to get back to you on that,”  he sighs, mirth slowly deteriorating. He pulls a hand down his face. “I still need to figure out what I’m gonna do over here.”  
  
“It’s a completely bonkers idea. You know that, right?”  
  
He shrugs. Another useless gesture. “What else have I got to lose?”  
  
Kairi can’t argue with that. “I feel like I’m telling you this constantly, but… be careful.”  
  
“Because you _are_ telling me constantly.”  
  
“And yet you keep doing crazy things!” she  blurts. “So I’ll keep telling you: _be careful_. Don’t get too lost in the lie.”  
  
As much as he would like to… “I won’t. Promise.”  
  
Somehow, he can feel her smiling through the phone. He can only imagine it being that fierce, mischievous  grin that grabbed ahold of him when he was eleven years old. “Break a leg.”  
  
  
.  
  
  
Sora didn’t think the change would be instant. He’s not that naive. Not after all he’s been through. Acting is the exploration of the human condition, and he knows, as much as anyone, that change is so incredibly _hard_. People want their first choice to be the correct one—to be the one that works. But sometimes it’s not, and tactics have to shift. Therein lies the struggle. The altering of oneself to reach that goal. It’s slow and frustrating.  
  
He knew nothing would change overnight, but maybe he’s still a bit naive. Because he always thought that, if Riku was serious about it, it would be easy. Like taking a step backwards to find old footprints in the sand. To fill them in again and find that the sand is still a little warm.  
  
But it isn’t easy. The waves have already washed away everything, and Riku will have to approximate where he used to be. Who he used to be.  
  
And if he’s truly serious about it, Sora will guide him the best he can. This amnesiac, two-years-ago, unchanged Sora will be his guidepost. Because if Sora can retreat two years, then surely Riku can too.  
  
It’s not easy. Sora doesn’t know all the details, and honestly, he doesn’t want to. But it’s been three days since they hung out and watched sill y Disney movies as promised, and Sora hasn’t heard a word from his best friend. It’s only slightly worrisome. Old habits die hard, and so does Sora’s anxiousness.  
  
So he calls. He’ll say ‘let’s hang out’ or something unassuming like that. After all, he can’t say ‘I was worried about you.’  
  
It rings several times, and when Riku finally answers he sounds half-asleep.  
  
Sora glances at the clock. It’s two in the afternoon. That’s weird. It’s not like him to sleep-in _this_ late. That was always Sora’s favourite rainy-day pastime. “Were you still asleep?” he jabs.  
  
“Depends,” he groans, “What day is it?”  
  
“Thursday.”  
  
“Then, yes.”  
  
Sora chuckles. “That’s not like you. Everything okay?”  
  
“I guess so.”  
  
“Yeah, and I _totally_ believe that. Real convincing.”  
  
His laugh is nothing but a low hum. “Right. Sorry. I feel like shit.” Then he makes sure to add: “But it’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
Huh. Was Sora’s tone so obvious? When Riku is barely conscious enough to notice? Sora swallows those doubts. Time for a tactic shift. “Are you sure? Do you need nursed back to health?”  
  
It sounds like Riku just choked on his breath.  
  
“I can be there in like ten minutes with the biggest can of soup you’ve ever seen in your life.”  
  
“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”  
  
“I dunno. It sounds pretty serious.”  
  
“It’s not,” he sighs. “I just… need to sleep it off. It’s probably a summer cold or something. I  only need a few days to get over it.”  
  
Wow. That’s a good one. Sora could almost believe it. But he’s sure there’s something else going on, even if he doesn’t know exactly what. Something that Riku is still working out of his system. But Sora’s not supposed to remember that there’s anything in Riku’s system to begin with, so he won’t push it. “I see… That’s alright. Sorry I woke you.”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
“Get some rest, okay?” Do whatever you have to.  
  
“Yeah… I’ll call you on Saturday. We’ll do something.”  
  
Sora’s hand tightens around the phone. He has to wipe the stupid grin off of his face. Over something so basic… He’s so hopeless. “Sure thing.”  
  
“See you then.”  
  
“Yeah. See ya.” The phone clicks.  
  
And when Saturday comes, he actually calls. This time, Sora can’t wipe the stupid grin from his face.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Bro Night takes place whenever Sora, Axel, and Roxas decide to get together and hang out. Sometimes they play board games. Sometimes it’s video games. Sometimes there’s alcohol thrown into the mix and the games turn sloppy, but there’s no harm done.

Over the course of his two years at university, Sora has learned his limitations. After one drink by the impromptu bartender, usually Axel, he only feels lightheaded. After two, his lips go numb. After three, his words get all jumbled up, and everything feels warm and buzzing. And that’s where they tend to stop. Nothing too crazy. Sora prefers it that way.

And it’s always the three of them. Him, Axel, and Roxas. Sora knows this.

At least, he did. Amnesiac Sora, on the other hand, is unaware of the fine machinations of Bro Night. He doesn’t remember Riku and Roxas’s relationship going even further south; or all the times he’s invited Riku to Bro Night anyway, only to be turned down for one reason or another. Lame excuse after lame excuse…

But now is the time to pretend none of that ever happened, and Roxas clearly falters when Sora assumes that Riku will be joining them for Bro Night one lazy Friday in the early summer. Roxas stops spinning slowly in his swivel chair and sends Sora a puzzled stare. “What do you mean?”

“What do _you_ mean?” Sora counters from the foot of the bed, even though he already knows. Of course he knows. It’s bothered him for so long. He knows that Riku has never attended Bro Night. Not even once.

Roxas shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “He isn’t involved. It’s just between the three of us.”

“So, he’s not invited?” That came out a little more disappointed than he intended.

“It’s not like that,” he sighs. “It just... ended up that way.”

Sora lounges across the bed. What a shallow attempt to act casual. “Well, is he invited or not?”

That stare is so intense. “Do you want to invite him?”

“Duh.”

Roxas sighs again. It’s pity that makes him relent. Pity that This Sora is unaware of all the disappointment. Sora isn’t sure how to feel about that. “Fine. Go ahead and invite him. But I don’t promise to like it. Or get along with him.”

Sora laughs. “Why would you start now?” Honestly, he’s sure Roxas only agreed because he’s already certain that Riku won’t show. It makes no difference to him. Sora can practically hear Roxas say the words ‘He probably won’t show anyway.’ They’re so clear on his face that they might as well have come out of his mouth.

So, when Sora returns to Roxas’s apartment later that night with Riku in tow, the blonde almost falls out of his chair.

Axel seems pleased, though, and rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Now this is interesting! Let’s get to it!” And he immediately shepherds them out of Roxas’s small, two-room apartment.  
  
Sora spots the concern sprouting on Riku’s face and mimics it the best he can. This is all supposed to be new. For both of them.

“Where are we going?” Riku finally asks, giving voice to Sora’s faux confusion.

Sora shrugs like he doesn’t know.

Axel just snorts. “Do _you_ want to spend all Bro Night in Roxy’s shitty little apartment?”

“Fuck off,” Roxas grumbles. “Besides, why bother when I have friends in low places?”

“The basement, specifically.”

Roxas addresses Sora as they descend the stairs. The confused look must be working. “The maintenance guy lets us use the basement as long as we drop a beer or two in his mini fridge. It’s like his commission.”

“And so began Bro Night,” Axel finishes. “It’s better than nothing.”

That’s fair, Sora thinks. The musty basement may be less than ideal, but it’s certainly better than being cramped in Roxas’s apartment. Especially with an extra person joining in.

At the bottom of the stairs, it’s still the same. The same grey concrete walls. The shelving units full of tools and cleaning supplies. The wobbly table and four chairs that don’t even match each other. The mini fridge and desk shoved into the corner. The random door covered in locks that no one knows how to open.

Riku gestures to the suspicious door almost immediately. “What’s that?”

“It’s none of our business,” Axel says with no hesitation. He doesn’t even acknowledge the door as he takes a seat at the table.

Sora glances to Roxas, who only shrugs. “Not even the maintenance guy knows.”

“So it’s probably a demon,” Axel concludes.

“It’s not a demon.”

“How do you know? Do you see all those locks? That’s to keep something _in_ , not out.”

Roxas rolls his eyes, but his grin betrays him. “Whatever you say.”

Sora laughs into his hand. He remembers this exact conversation happening a year ago. Axel has watched too many horror movies.

Riku studies the door for a moment or two. “So you’re not going to open it?”

It takes Axel a good five seconds to break out of his deadpan stare and respond: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What? You afraid?” he smirks.

Axel slams his palms onto the tabletop like punctuation: “We. Do not. Fuck. With demons. In. This. Household!”

Riku laughs smugly through his nose. “You’re definitely afraid.”

“No demons at Bro Night!” he snaps, and throws a metal tin of dominoes on the table. Where was he even keeping those? “Now sit down and shut up! We’re getting drunk and playing games! That is the true essence of Bro Night!”

“Yeah, yeah...” He seems unimpressed, but sits down anyway. Sora takes the chair next to him.

Roxas wanders over to the mini fridge and produces a bottle of silver tequila with two shot glasses. Wait, two? Oh, right! Roxas dropped the third one the last time they played… It shattered into a million pieces that were a pain in the ass to clean up.

But still, Sora isn’t supposed to know that, so he asks: “Only two?”

Roxas shrugs. “We’ll have to share. It’s all we’ve got.”

“Okay.”

“You can share with Riku,” he adds with a grimace, “I don’t know where he’s been.”

That’s such a sudden jab that Sora almost forgets to laugh.

Riku’s glare is sharp, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably because he _can’t_ say anything.

But it’s fine. Roxas pours two shots of the liquor as Axel sets out the dominoes. The game pieces clatter together like ice cubes on the tabletop. Roxas hands Sora one of the shots and raises his own in the air. A toast, huh? They clink glasses. “Cheers,” Sora says like a reflex, and they down the shots.

Oh god it burns like fire. He’d forgotten how much he hated taking shots. Fuck, why would anyone do this to themselves? His throat is melting and it feels like acid pooling in his stomach. Its bad. It’s so bad. It’s enough to twist his face into a knot and make him shiver all over. But it’s not _terrible_ , either.

Roxas is laughing at him. “Too rough?”

“Nah,” Sora gasps. “It’s fine. Totally fine. I love it. It’s great.”

Riku is laughing at him too. “Are you gonna give up already?”

“Get real!” Then he snatches the bottle of tequila from Roxas and pours another shot. He shoves it into Riku’s hand. “Go ahead!”

There’s that smug look again. Riku takes the shot like water. There’s barely a quiver across his face. “Okay.”

Sora pouts. “Show off.” He knew this would happen, but at least they’re drinking on Sora’s usual terms this time. With people he knows and likes. Even if it’s all supposed to be new.

Axel is resigned to pouring his own drink. “I don’t think that’s anything to be proud of,” he says, before downing his own shot in a similar manner.

Riku rolls his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

Sora still can’t seem to get the taste out of his mouth. “Do we have anything to chase this with?” he grimaces.

Roxas tosses his head towards the fridge. “There’s some soda in there.”

He graciously accepts. Oh, and it’s orange soda too! His favorite.

Meanwhile, Axel passes out the domino tiles and explains the rules. Good thing it’s an easy game, Sora won’t have to pretend too hard.

But he really should’ve remembered how intense these games can get. Thirteen rounds is a long time. Crazy things can happen. There’s a lot of swearing and blocked moves and shoves and shots. By the midway point, Sora is most definitely losing, and sitting three shots deep in his chair. Everything feels kind of… floating.

Then there’s Axel, who’s not winning either, maybe four or five shots in. At some point, he started a random music playlist from his phone. It has everything from Broadway to K-pop. He’s bobbing his head along as he scrolls through an app while they take a break from the game.

And even though Riku and Roxas have spent the entire game sabotaging each other, they’re both so close in points, either of them could win. They’ve both had four shots as well, but it’s much more obvious in Roxas. His words have started running together already.

A new song blares from Axel’s phone speakers. It’s from a video game that Sora isn’t supposed to remember playing. A boss theme in 3/4 time. Axel starts swaying in his chair. “Now, this is it. This song is fucking great,” he mumbles to no one in particular. “Yeah. I could to waltz to this.” Is that supposed to be a compliment?

Well, whatever. “I don’t even know _how_ to waltz,”  Sora says, totally off-handedly. Even when he’s this tipsy, the back of his mind is working hard to filter out anything that could ruin the charade. He learned to waltz freshman year. It was in a stage movement course.   
  
“What?” Axel coughs. His breath is heavily laced with tequila. “But you’re the one that taught _me_.”  
  
Brows furrow. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. You can even do the girl’s part.”  
  
Sora makes a face. “That sounds kinda weird.”  
  
“Actually, it’s pretty impressive,” he admits. “I can barely do my _own_ part. So wait. Now I can return the favour.” He stands up in a flash and holds out his hand. “C’mon.”  
  
“Eh?”  He can’t be serious.  
  
“Let’s go, Sora!” Wow, the alcohol is really kicking in now. “I wanna dance with somebody who loves me!”  
  
He bursts out laughing. It’s such a stupid joke, but he just can’t stop it. “Why not?” He grabs Axel’s hand, and the redhead pulls him to his feet. The other hand finds Sora’s lower back. It’s amazing that he remembers that much, but Sora acts surprised by the contact. Axel is supposed to be the teacher this time.  
  
“And your hand goes here,” he places Sora’s hand on his shoulder. Their arms are practically laying on top of one another. “Okay? You taught me how to lead. The importance of contact. So feel my movements. My hands and my arm. You feel it?”  
  
This is so awkward, but all the tequila just makes it funny. “I feel it, Mr. Krabs.”  
  
Axel explodes with laughter. “Goddamnit, Sora, I missed you. I’m so glad you didn’t die that night.”  
  
“Me too!”  
  
“Yeah. I missed your sense of humour. Roxas is kinda dry, ya know?”  
  
“Hey,” Roxas protests.  
  
Axel only sweeps Sora across the room in a grand arc. “Don’t argue with me on this, Roxy!”  
  
Sora is laughing so hard he’s not even paying attention to what his body is doing. He effortlessly follows Axel’s lead in their parade.  
  
A smile appears on Axel’s face. “What’s this? Muscle memory? You’re a natural.”  
  
“I guess so,” he snickers. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”  
  
The other two remain at the table with the bottle of tequila. Roxas looks like he doesn’t know whether to be angry or amused. Riku pours himself another shot and watches Axel and Sora twirl around the room, laughing so hard that neither of them can keep in rhythm with the song. Sora is trying his best, though. That smile could break his face in two. Riku hasn’t seen him smile like that in a long time.  
  
That’s a sobering thought. It steals away the grin he didn’t know he was wearing. When _was_ the last time he saw Sora smile like that? Laugh this hard?  
  
He… can’t remember. What the hell? Sora deserves to laugh like that all the time.  
  
And right now it’s Axel who gets that reaction? What’s up with that? Is this a normal thing? How often  do those two hang out together again?  
  
Riku drinks his shot and wonders what else he’s missed.  
  
“What’s the matter with you?” Roxas snorts. “You’re looking a little salty.”  
  
Riku tries to shake off whatever expression is marring his face. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing to you.”  
  
The blonde only rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but I _know_ why I’m salty. So, why are you?” Riku doesn’t answer. Roxas pours himself another shot of tequila. “If you’re going to sit there looking so disgruntled, you’re free to go. I won’t stop you from leaving.”  
  
“I expect that sentiment from you.” Then he shrugs, “But it’s too bad that I have two invitations.”  
  
“Two?” Roxas narrows his glare. “ So one’s from Axel? But he doesn’t even like you!”  
  
Riku smirks. “You sure about that?”  
  
He purses his lips and looks over to where Axel and Sora are still spinning in a drunken waltz. “Hey!” The two dancers freeze in place. Roxas looks like he has to painstakingly gather his words. He stares directly at Axel. “Riku, you don’t actually _like_ Axel, do you? You hate him as much as I do!”  
  
Everyone stares confusedly at Roxas for several seconds.  
  
The gears carefully turn in Axel’s head as he nods. “Nah, Axel is a pretty cool dude. I don’t hate him. We go to concerts and get turnt every so often. Right, Axel?”  
  
Riku raises his glass into the air. “You’re right, Riku. We have fun.”  
  
Sora is absolutely incapacitated with laughter. Roxas only looks angry.  
  
Axel points. “You see? Axel isn’t so bad!”  
  
Everyone but Roxas laughs. The blonde glares daggers at Riku. “How is it that over half of this bottle is gone but you’re still totally fine?”  
  
Riku only shrugs.”I’m not a cheap date.”  
  
“ Yeah, I’m still paying off that credit card,” Axel laments. Sora and Roxas send him worried glances. “What? It wasn’t a date, or anything. I lost a bet.”  
  
“That was over a year ago,” Riku says.  
  
“Minimum payments,” he winks. “I like to pretend that I’m paying for the couch at home that I never get to sit on.” Sora laughs harder at that. “At least we never have to worry about someone like Sora fucking you up. He could never afford it. He’s always broke.”  
  
“Hey!” Sora pouts. “I could! If… I wanted to.”  
  
Axel pats his head. “Take it from me. Don’t try it. Axel will bleed you dry.”  
  
“Enough with that!” Roxas shouts.  
  
Sora crosses his arms. Is Axel doubting his power? “I could totally do it!”  
  
“Sure thing,” he coos, still patting him on the head.  
  
That’s the last straw. Sora swats his hand away. “You wanna bet!?”  
  
“Oh?” Axel’s grin turns hungry. “So you want to make it interesting?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“Alright, then, Shorty. You’re on!”  
  
Riku looks tired already. “Are you guys betting over my tolerance?”  
  
“More like your history of bad decisions,” Roxas laughs.  
  
Axel throws his hand out. “Fifty bucks says you can’t do it,” he challenges.  
  
Sora takes up that hand without an ounce of hesitation. “You’re on!”  
  
“Perfect. Now, Riku,” he whirls around, and only stumbles a little, “no cheating! Don’t make it easy for him just because he’s Sora. Okay?”  
  
Riku is barely listening, pouring himself another shot of tequila with a vague expression on his face. “Whatever.”  
  
Sora can’t stop himself from laughing. “Yeah, right. Riku’s never gone easy on me. Ever.”  
  
“Well, then, go ahead and put it on Hard Mode,” Axel says.  
  
“Hey! How’s that fair?”   
  
Axel only laughs. Sora’s run out of ways to defend himself against this. Neither Riku nor Roxas are standing up for him, either. Really. What is this? Is Axel really doubting his powers? Things may have changed lately, but Sora is going to grab onto this two-years-ago confidence with both hands. He’s going to win this bet. 

It’s not like he has fifty dollars to give up when he loses, anyway.

Time to get serious.  
  
But first, they have to finish their game of dominoes.  
  


  
.  
  


“Are you ready?” Sora is practically bouncing on the stoop with a loaded backpack slung over his shoulder.  
  
Riku tilts his head. “Ready for what?”  
  
“Movie night!”  
  
So that’s the plan, huh? “Of course.” He steps aside and let’s Sora through the door.  
  
Sora heads immediately to the kitchen, and sets his backpack down on the counter. He fishes out several sci-fi movies, bags of microwave popcorn, a pack of soda, and a bottle of mid-grade bourbon.  
  
Riku takes the bottle in his hand. It’s a good brand. The label is textured and detailed. “What’s with this?”  
  
His laugh is a bit uneasy. Riku doesn’t miss it. “Well, it’s been a few weeks since Bro Night, right? And I was just thinking that we’ve never drank together before. Not that I remember, anyway…” He absently scratches his cheek. He always does that when he doesn’t know what to say. “I thought it might be fun!”  
  
“I see.” Fair enough. He returns to bottle to the countertop.  
  
So Sora shoves all the movies into his hands and tells him to pick one. He’s already moved on to making the popcorn and snapping open two cans of soda to mix with the bourbon.  
  
Well. He’s pretty excited. Riku returns to the main room and sets everything up. Three minutes later, Sora comes in toting two glasses of dark soda and a huge bowl of popcorn. He plops onto the sofa next to Riku and hands him one of the glasses with a grin that’s way too wide. “What is it?” Riku asks.  
  
Sora rolls his eyes. “It’s bourbon and coke, you neanderthal.”  
  
“Not that,” he shoves his arm. “What are you giving me that look for?”  
  
“Oh. I’m just excited,” he shrugs, taking a handful of popcorn and stuffing all of it into his gob.  
  
That isn’t very convincing. But whatever. “Sure,” Riku concedes, and has a sip of his drink. It’s strong. Stronger than he expected. He almost coughs.  
  
Sora smirks devilishly at him. “Too rough?”  
  
Cheeky little—He recovers in a blink. “Nah. It’s perfect.”  
  
He hums like laughter. “Good.” Then he takes a gulp of his own drink and clearly grimaces at the taste. Doesn’t that prove he’s made it just as strong?  
  
Riku laughs beneath his breath, but decides to not call him out on it.  
  
It’s like party punch. It’s gets easier to drink as they go along. So about halfway through the first film, Riku has reached the bottom of the glass. Surprisingly, Sora has kept up, and polishes off his drink a few minutes later. He offers to make the next round as well.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah, I got it,” Sora insists. He’s already up with both glasses in his hands, so there’s no point in arguing. He calls over his shoulder as he leaves: “Pause it! I don’t want to miss anything!”  
  
When he comes back, the drinks are still strong. Wow. Sora has been spending way too much time with Axel. Where else could he have learned this?  
  
Of course, the downside of drinks becoming easier to handle as you go is that you eventually drink them way too fast.  
  
Near the end of the second movie, Riku has lost count of how many they’ve had. Was it four? Five? Is there even any bourbon _left_ at this point? He sits in a strange, yet surprisingly comfortable position on the couch, watching the movie and saying whatever comes to mind to make Sora laugh. He loves doing that. Why did he ever forget it? Why did he stop trying?  
  
His brain is buzzing so lou d that he can’t figure it out, and the thoughts slip through his fingers like water. There’s only the residue to prove that he once held them in his hands. Something about Sora laughing… He _is_ still laughing. At something. What was it again?  
  
Riku rests his head on the back of the sofa. Holy shit. He hasn’t been this drunk in a long time. A really long time. The ceiling looks alive before his eyes. It’s moving.  
  
Well. He hasn’t had any alcohol in a few weeks… not since that night with Axel and Roxas. So maybe his tolerance has gone down.  
  
That quickly? Probably not.  
  
It _was_ a lot of bourbon. Sora made sure of it.  
  
Riku looks at him. He’s wiping the tears from his eyes. Tears of laughter this time. That’s the only kind of tears he deserves. Riku doesn’t want to see Sora cry any other tears ever again. It doesn’t suit him. He should smile like the sun.  
  
But right now, his laughter has died down.  That smile is soft. The end credits of whatever movie they’re watching are playing almost too loudly in the background. This is warm. Nice. Perfect. This is everything.  
  
Sora fidgets in his seat. He looks uncomfortable, and his grin has turned stiff. How? After all of this bourbon, shouldn’t he be as relaxed as Riku feels? Why isn’t he feeling this too? “Why are you still okay?”  
  
There’s only a split second of hesitation before he chuckles: “Because I’ve only had one. My glass is actually nothing but soda.”  
  
Riku’s mouth drops open. “You— That’s so—”  
  
“Underhanded?” he grins.  
  
A laugh explodes from his chest, and he drags Sora into a headlock. “Since when have you been able to fool me?”  
  
Sora just barely tenses. “Who knows? I wouldn’t remember.”  
  
Oh, shit. “Right. Sorry,” he sighs, but he still holds him there against his shoulder. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re amazing. Really. Remember _that_ , okay?”  
  
“O-oh yeah?” he stammers, absently tugging at Riku’s arm. “You think so?”  
  
“Yeah. The best. Even if you _did_ trick me.” He pulls Sora’s neck tighter, exhaling softly into his hair.  Now that he thinks about it… This must be because of that wager with Axel from a few weeks ago. No one could’ve seen this coming. “Looks like you won the bet.”  
  
“Y-yeah…”  
  
“How much does Axel owe you again?”  
  
“Fifty dollars…” He’s still so tense, even without all of his memories. It’s adorable. “So, um… Can I have my neck back now?”  
  
Riku hums. “Nah.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You’re not getting off that easily.”  
  
His laugh is uneasy, but he doesn’t put up a fight. He only fidgets within Riku’s hold, despite how loose it is now. The focus has waned so much, it’s almost casual. But Sora still sits awkwardly in an uncomfortable position. “Hey… Can I ask you something?”  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
It takes a second for him to get the words out. “The last two years… Well… What kind of relationship do we have?”  
  
There’s suddenly a painful lump in his throat. “Huh?”  
  
“I guess what I mean is… Right now, is this… teasing? Or flirting?”  
  
His breath gets caught, and he’s instantly aware of his hands. His arms around Sora’s shoulders. Face halfway leaning into his hair. What is he doing? “It’s… I…” And he lets him go. “Sorry. It… must be a habit.”  
  
Sora slowly rights himself on the sofa. “So… you’re a flirt now?”  
  
Riku shakes his head. “Even I’ve lost track,” he mutters. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine… I just… wanted some context,” Sora mumbles. “And to know if I should take you seriously or not…” Then he waves his hands around. “But if I’m usually okay with it, it’s not a big deal.”  
  
He scoffs. “The thing is, you’re not. You’re not okay with it. I only do it because it makes you uncomfortable. And I think your flustered reactions are pretty funny.” He lets out a careful breath, really hearing his own words. What the fuck is wrong with him? “But that’s not a very good reason, is it?”  
  
Sora is quiet for a long time. “I don’t think so.”  
  
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”  
  
“Sounds like a pretty bad habit.”  
  
He laughs like a cough. “I’ve done worse.” Way worse.  
  
Sora tilts his head. He looks hesitant to ask. “Really?”  
  
Riku leans up and turns to fully face him. “Has Axel told you about the night of the accident? About what really happened?”  
  
“Yeah. He told me about Larxene, and the guy she was with, and how he and Axel got into a fistfight. But then I—”  
  
“I’m talking about before that. Because before you were hanging out with Axel, you were with me.”  
  
“You mean… that argument you were talking about? Back at the hospital?”  
  
He nods heavily. “Yeah… but it wasn’t so much of an argument as it was… me screwing everything up, and being a horrible friend to you.” Sora narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. “There was something very wrong with me back then. I don’t know what came over me, I… I was chasing something dark. Something I didn’t need. Like a high that I wanted to feel again. And I wasn’t above using you to reach it.”  
  
His lips form a straight line. There’s barely a hint of confusion on his face. “Did you find what you were looking for?”  
  
“No,” Riku mutters, “but after seeing you leave in tears—real tears—I finally decided that whatever or whoever it was, I didn’t need it.”  
  
The silence is long and suffocating. Sora quietly shifts in his seat. “So that’s what happened, huh?”  
  
“I ran out after you, but… it was too late, I guess.” He rakes a hand back through his hair. “I had to completely break you before I realized how stupid I was. It’s pathetic.” Another scoff scratches his throat. “It’s no wonder he laughed at me. I deserved it.”  
  
Sora tilts his head again. “Who?”  
  
“Probably the only person I hate more than myself,” he laughs without mirth. “If I never see him again it’ll be too soon.”  
  
Concern twists his face. “Maybe it’s best if I don’t ask.”  
  
“You’ll remember how awful I really am soon enough,” he forces a smile.  
  
That almost looks like a glare. “C’mon. Don’t say that.”  
  
Riku only shrugs. “Too bad. I said it.”  
  
Sora doesn’t look pleased with that response, either. He takes a patient breath. “It has been kinda weird. I won’t lie.”  
  
He laughs through his nose. “I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me, anyway.”  
  
Sora grimaces, or is that a smile? “Yeah, it’s like I went to sleep one night and you were fine, and then I woke up two years later and suddenly you’re going to these wild parties and doing lines off bathroom countertops. It’s like you’re someone else.”  
  
“It feels like that to me too. I’ve… dissociated from that person.”  
  
“Even if most of what Roxas says is true… we’re still best friends, right?”  
  
“Of course we are,” he presses, leaning into the back of the sofa. This is nice. Comfortable. “Nothing could change that.” He hasn’t been this drunk in a while, but it’s a little different this time. It’s calm. Warm. Not so spinning and manic. Like he could float away.  
  
Sora watches him drift off. A sad smile slices his face. If only he could believe it.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Riku wakes up the next morning with that familiar pounding in his head. A hangover. Great. It’s been a while.  
  
Well. Maybe it’s not so bad. He’s felt worse.  
  
He keeps telling himself that, as if it will help. It doesn’t.  
  
He turns over in bed—wait, when did he get here? He’s still wearing the clothes from yesterday… The last thing he remembers is talking with Sora on the sofa. And then he must’ve passed out, peacefully for once. Maybe Sora carted him up here somehow… He makes a quiet laugh as he tries to imagine how that worked. It must’ve been hard for him. Riku will have to make up for it today.  
  
But first, this headache has got to go.  
  
There should be a bottle of aspirin in the nightstand. He doesn’t even sit up to reach for it. Rummaging through the drawer produces a pill bottle. An ibuprofen bottle. Not quite the aspirin he was looking for. He stares at the inconspicuous bottle in his hand. There’s only a few tablets left rattling around inside. It’s not ibuprofen. He knows it’s not. Little white pills with crosses etched onto the back… No, these are “study pills.” “Test-taking pills.” “The coffee isn’t enough anymore pills.” He hasn’t taken any since… the weekend of Sora’s accident. And the long detox that came after, where he slept for three days straight. His nose scrunches up. They remind him of a time and state-of-mind that he’d rather leave forgotten.  
  
The bottle goes flying across the room, bouncing into a lonely corner. He should flush them later.  
  
He finds the aspirin and tries to take it, but he’s too dehydrated. The tablets only get stuck in his throat. Perfect. Whatever. He’ll get up. He flings the covers off and trudges down the stairs. Sora remains asleep on the sofa in the main room, one leg dangling over the edge without a care in this world. Riku slides silently into the kitchen. This headache is all Sora’s fault. And Axel’s. Their stupid bet… Why’d they have to drag him into the middle of it? He makes a quick cup of coffee. Dehydration be damned.  
  
Sora said he won the bet, right? Riku pulls a hand down his face. Of course he did. This hangover is proof enough. Which means Axel has to pay up.  
  
The coffee is still too hot to drink, but he sips it anyway. After all of this trouble, he better see some of that money too. Sora totally owes him for this.  
  
A handful of unpleasant memories cycle through his head. Well… maybe Sora doesn’t owe him anything after all. In fact, Riku probably still owes him. He owes him the world. Several times over. He’s so deep in debt he may never be able to pay it all back.  
  
He creeps back into the main room, where Sora hasn’t moved at all. He thinks that being in debt might not be so bad. The hot coffee and aspirin slowly bring him back to life.  
  
Sora abruptly twitches and rolls over. Riku pauses with the coffee mug at his lips. How long has he been standing here? Sora makes a noise into the pillow. A mumble of half-words. There’s no sense to it. Is he talking in his sleep? That’s so cute.   
  
Wait, what? Stop that. He scowls at the thought. He said he wasn’t going to tease him anymore. But is it really _teasing_ if he’s just thinking it? Besides, teasing isn’t the right word for it. That sounds too mean. He’s never intentionally mean to Sora. Other people, maybe, but not Sora.  
  
So, if it’s not teasing, then what the hell is it?  He remembers Sora’s voice from last night: _“Is this… teasing? Or flirting?”_  
  
Yeah, right. He flips through some of his memories as he retreats back to the kitchen table. There’s no way. But he seems to do it a lot. What is wrong with him? He’s sure it’s not teasing. Sora’s reactions are just too good. It’s just cute.  
  
He plops down into a chair and mutters into his coffee mug: “Fuck.” How long has he been flirting with him? _Why_?  Sora asked him last night, right? If he was just a flirt? But that can’t be it, because he doesn’t do it to anyone else. He only does it to Sora. “Oh, fuck.” That’s even worse, isn’t it? What does he _want_?  
  
“’Morning,”  Sora mumbles, appearing the doorway and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Riku’s insides are on fire. His voice has melted. Sora sees that expression and tilts his head. “Are you okay? You look a little—”  
  
“I’m fine,” he says. His voice is much harsher than he wanted. But his heart is pounding hard and it feels like he’s been caught. “Totally fine.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“There’s a box of cookies in the cabinet,” he mutters, completely ignoring the concern. “Just… fuck it—help yourself, alright? I’m going to take a shower.”  
  
“Okay?” Sora asks, but Riku has already ducked out of the room and zoomed up the stairs.  
  
He slams the bathroom door shut with a long string of expletives. He’s so stupid. The worst of the worst. What has he been doing?  
  
That’s easy. Flirting with Sora. Damn it. He’s such an idiot. It’s no wonder Sora is always so uncomfortable around him.  
  
Riku swears again. He feels so scummy. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. And what did he expect in return? Did he expect anything? He laughs in spite of himself. Even if he did expect it, he doesn’t deserve anything at all. Sora is too good for him.  
  
He really doesn’t want to think about the emotional implications either. But knowing him, there’s nothing there. Everything he does is empty. He’s just bored. He’s… broken. And twisted.  
  
Fuck, he could really use someone to talk to about all this. He would usually talk to Sora, but he can’t. Not with this. His next closest friend… is probably Axel. But he can’t tell Axel. Because Axel will tell Roxas. And Roxas will fucking murder him. Any of his other friends are so distant. Kairi hasn’t spoken to him in over a year now.  
  
Yeah, he deserves this.  
  
He leans over the sink with a groan. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” His eyes stare vacantly at his own reflection. “I can’t talk to you, either, because you’re the one that got me into this mess.”  
  
The reflection glares back, as if to curse him as well. That’s it. He’s finally lost it.   
  
He’s nothing but a tangled mess of empty come-ons and broken promises. Sora doesn’t deserve that. No, Riku doesn’t deserve _him_. He’s fighting for something he doesn’t deserve. He’s not even sure what that _something_ is. He never does. He’s always reaching for things he has no business having. Hasn’t he learned that lesson by now?  
  
“ You’re sick. Why are you like this? Why do you always have to be _chasing something_?”  he glowers into the mirror. “I don’t care if you destroy yourself, just leave Sora out of it.”  
  
He’s talking to himself again.  
  
Whatever. He’ll have to slowly sort through all of this shit on his own. He gets into the shower and does his best to not repeatedly slam his head against the wall.  
  
When he comes back downstairs, he finds Sora slumped over the kitchen table, scrolling through something on his smartphone. His face is creased with concern. “That took a while. Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Just a little hungover, that’s all,” he lies.  
  
Sora looks like he doesn’t believe him. Of course he doesn’t. There’s no fooling him. Riku fleetingly wonders what it would take to turn that pout back to his usual smile. At this point, he’d do almost anything.  
  
_Fuck_. He’s hopeless.  
  
  
.  
  
  
It’s the middle of summer when Roxas and Axel plan another blowout Bro Night. Snacks, games, and alcohol are guaranteed. Axel seems pretty excited for it. The game of the night is a drinking game.  
  
That explains Axel’s excitement. It also explains why Roxas didn’t fight over Riku’s invitation. Roxas has been trying to get him fall-down drunk all summer to no avail, hoping to catch him off-guard or doing something embarrassing. Well. Sora doesn’t mind. It bypasses any argument.  
  
The basement of Roxas’s apartment building is as barren as ever. Nothing but shelves of cleaning supplies and the worn table with uncomfortable, mismatched chairs. Axel already has a bottle of tequila and four shot glasses arranged on the table in front of him. He holds his arms out wide as Sora and Riku reach the foot of the stairs, “Squad up, bitches!”  
  
Roxas rolls his eyes and continues munching on a bag of potato chips near the mini fridge. Sora walks over and snatches the bag from his hands. “Hey!”  
  
“So, what are we playing?” he asks with a crunch. Salt and vinegar flavour. Nice.  
  
Axel grins from his seat. “Never Have I Ever.”  
  
“Oh, no,” Riku groans.  
  
“The classic.”  
  
“In which the wilder you are, the harder you fall,” Roxas smirks, gaze set directly on Riku.  
  
It’s Sora’s turn to roll his eyes. Here we go. He chews on another chip in silence.  
  
Axel begins prepping the drinks. “I never win this game.”  
  
“Does anyone really _win_?” Sora asks. “I thought you just played until you were too drunk to keep playing.”  
  
“Right. And I’m always the first one to be too drunk.”  
  
Figures.  
  
Everyone takes their places at the table, and Roxas  reclaims his bag of chips. “I’ll start us off,” he smirks. So he already has a game plan, huh? “Never have I ever kissed a man.”  
  
For once, Sora thanks the stars for his fake amnesia.  
  
But then Riku and Axel both take their drinks. Roxas looks to his friend in shock. “Dude!”  
  
“What?” Axel shivers from the shot of liquor. “It was before Larxene. Before I met you. You know. A different time.”  
  
Roxas doesn’t look convinced at all. In fact, he looks downright sour.  
  
Riku and Sora laugh at his expression. If Sora had to guess, the man-in-question is probably that blonde, guitar-playing friend of Axel’s that Roxas is not-so-subtly jealous over. Demyx.  
  
The blonde waves his hand, like he could brush it all away. “Whatever. Next.”   
  
Bro Night protocol is to the left, which makes it Riku’s turn. It takes him a moment. He has to think hard about his play. He knows he’s at a disadvantage in this group. “Never have I ever… binged an entire season of anime in one sitting.”  
  
Roxas, Axel, and Sora all drink.  
  
Riku looks unimpressed. “Guys.”  
  
“Some of us like _wholesome_ fun,” Roxas prods.  
  
Axel coughs a bit. “I don’t think I’d call anime wholesome, exactly… Weird breast physics, and all.”  
  
“ More wholesome than whatever he’s busy getting into.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Riku glares, propping his elbows on the table.  
  
“Are you saying it’s not true?”  
  
“That—” and he breaks off. He can’t say that. The tactic shift visibly passes through his face. “Are you gonna spend all night targeting me, or are you gonna play properly? Because two can play that game, Lightweight.”  
  
“It’s not always about you,” Roxas spits. Sora has to stifle the laugh. Of course Riku saw through that plan. Roxas practically announced it. But now the blonde brings a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Case and Point: Never have I ever been mistaken for a girl.”  
  
No way. He wouldn’t go there. Would he?  
  
No one moves. Sora isn’t supposed to remember. Maybe they’ll realize the mistake and move on.  
  
But all three of them look at him expectantly. Sora leans back. “What?”  
  
Roxas hands him his shot of tequila. “That one was just for you.”  
  
There’s the familiar burn of embarrassment. “Eh?”  
  
Axel rubs his hands together. “Boy, do we have a story for you!”  
  
Sora takes the shot so he can at least pretend to not listen.  
  
Axel proceeds to recount the tale of the Shakespearean showcase and Sora’s time on stage in a dress, along with the trip to the pub that followed because, as Axel puts it: “You were starving and taking all of that makeup off was going to be a chore.” So they went to the pub, where, apparently, Sora was approached by twelve different men. That is a gross exaggeration, but Sora can’t correct it. Axel says that he almost got into a fight with one of the guys. Sora doesn’t remember that part, even without the fake amnesia. Meanwhile, Roxas cackles through the entire story. Sora can’t bear to turn and see Riku’s expression.  
  
“So we disappeared into the night,” Axel croons. “Ever since, rumours have been whispered at the pub of a striking beauty that once graced their halls. She’s a beautiful myth. A mesmerizing legend!”  
  
Sora drops his head onto the table. “Please stop.”  
  
“I am so sorry I missed that,” Riku laughs.  
  
Axel claps a hand onto Sora’s shoulder. “Yeah. Unfortunately, there’s no photography allowed in the theatre. And the only one that had any pictures from the pub was Roxas, but…”  
  
Sora hears his cousin scowl. “Axel pushed me into a pool last summer and completely fucking ruined my phone.”  
  
“Axel, you’re my hero,” Sora mumbles.  
  
He shakes his head feverishly. “Don’t compliment me for that. I’m still angry at myself. But don’t worry, Sora. Your beauty shall live on forever in my memories.” His finger taps against his temple and winks.  
  
Sora can only groan and hit his head on the table again. He hits a little harder than he planned, and Riku’s hand grabs his other shoulder.  
  
“That’s the way of the game,” he chuckles.  
  
Sora just groans louder.  
  
To the left from Roxas, then. Hey, wait… is that right? Riku fires his play before Sora can figure it out: “Never have I ever gotten drunk in costume.”  
  
Roxas glares at him, tilting the glass to his lips. “Fuck you.”  
  
Riku just smirks.  
  
Axel takes his shot as well, and again, Roxas looks at him in disbelief. The redhead gapes back at him. “Dude, I was _with_ you.”  
  
“Oh, right.”  
  
Sora bursts out laughing. Isn’t _he_ supposed to be the one with amnesia?   
  
His cousin is still glaring death at Riku. “So you’re going to target me anyway, huh? Fine. Have it your way.” Roxas rolls his shoulders. “I’m just getting started.”  
  
“Bring it on, Blondie,” Riku taunts.  
  
“Never have I ever gotten drunk off of leftover and abandoned drinks at the bar.”  
  
Riku meets Roxas’s stare with nothing but a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t move.  
  
Axel groans loudly and reaches for the bottle of tequila. “Fuck you, Roxas. I told you to never tell anyone that story.”  
  
Again, Sora explodes with laughter. Roxas scowls as Axel takes his shot.  
  
Riku only shrugs at him. “Sorry. I have some class.”  
  
“Too mean,” Axel whines.  
  
Roxas runs a hand down his face. His plan really went up in smoke this time. “You make it too easy.”  
  
“Wait! Hold up!” he suddenly shouts. “You two have been skipping us! Sora and I haven’t gotten a turn yet!”  
  
“Hey, that’s right!” Sora adds. He didn’t even notice.  
  
Roxas waves for him to continue. “Then go.”  
  
Axel rubs at his face. “Wait. I gotta think of a good one. I can do this.” He sucks a breath through his teeth. “Uh… I might have to sacrifice myself for this one… Screw it, I’ll do it.” Then he clears his throat. “Never have I ever… watched porn with someone else.”  
  
Roxas and Riku both swear beneath their breath.  
  
Sora’s mouth falls open. “ _Guys!”_  
  
Axel cackles, passing out the shot glasses and pouring one for himself. “See, I knew that would work, because I’ve done it with both of them. Drink up,  bitches!” And the three take their shots.  
  
Sora tries to shake the images out of his head. Why would they even do such a thing? It’s not like that’s really his area of expertise, but… still.  
  
“Your turn, Short-Stuff,” Axel coughs.  
  
Sora punches his arm. “Don’t call me that.” He only gets a chuckle in response. But wait. Shit. That’s right. It’s his turn! He has no idea what to say! “Gimme a sec,” he mumbles. No one complains. In fact, Roxas doesn’t look worried in the slightest. Sora racks his brain. This is harder than he thought it would be. “Never have I ever… woken up next to someone I didn’t know?”  
  
Riku sighs and takes his drink.  
  
Sora expected that. But for some reason, Roxas is glaring daggers at him.  
  
“Fuck,” and he downs his shot as well.  
  
“Roxas!?”  
  
Axel is laughing so hard he can barely sit upright. “And you were such a prude about it too. You fell asleep at that house party and woke up fully clothed next to a shirtless stranger.”  
  
“Shut up!” he yells.  
  
Sora snickers into his hand. “I had no idea.”   
  
Then Roxas cuts his glare over towards him, and that laugh is cut short. Oh, no. That expression isn’t good. It only spells trouble. “Okay, if we’re gonna play that way,” Roxas slurs, and pours another shot. He sits it directly in front of Sora and looks him dead in the eyes: “Never have I ever woken up spooning my best friend.”  
  
He feels the heat rise in his face like fire. “Roxas!”  
  
“Drink!”  
  
“We were ten!”  
  
“I said drink, you fuck!”  
  
Riku tops off his glass. “Oh, yeah. I remember that.” He says it like an afterthought.  
  
Sora takes the shot with a grumble directed at Roxas.  
  
Axel quietly raises his hand into the air. “Question. Roxas, I _am_ your best friend, right?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Thought so.” He doesn’t say anything else. He only pours two more shots and hands one to Roxas,  whose face turns bright red.  
  
Sora bursts out laughing.  
  
“H-huh? What?” Roxas stammers.  
  
Axel shrugs. “To be fair, we were both pretty plastered. I guess you don’t remember. But it totally happened. We passed out on the bedroom floor. I was the big spoon.”  
  
“I hate this game,” Roxas mutters, before taking the shot of tequila anyway.  
  
Riku gives Axel a skeptical look. “I can’t imagine a situation where you _aren’t_ the big spoon.”  
  
“ That’s fair,” Axel nods. “I’m assuming you were also the big spoon?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Sora has his face buried in his hands. His cheeks are still burning. “Can we stop playing now?”  
  
Riku scoffs. “No way. Roxas already started the round, and I have a good one: Never have I ever had a crush on a fictional character—like a waifu or husbando.” Sora looks at him with widened eyes. “What? Are you surprised that I know the terminology? I also know you nerds have them. Now drink.”  
  
Axel laughs as he passes out the drinks to Roxas, Sora, and himself. “I like this one. Confession time.”  
  
“Huh?” Roxas squeaks.  
  
“C’mon, Roxy. Who’s your anime wife? Or husband. Ya know. I don’t judge.” Roxas takes his shot in silence. Axel leans onto the table. “I only ask because I already know.”  
  
Riku leans in as well. “I need to hear this.”  
  
Roxas glares at them both. “Shut up.”  
  
“C’mon,” Axel pushes, “tell us.”  
  
His face is so red. It’s impossible to tell if it’s from embarrassment or all the alcohol. “There’s nothing to tell. I mean, of course I have a favourite character. And of course he was awesome. He _w_ _as…_ ” he mumbles to the floor. Sora watches his cousin’s thoughts swirl in a drunken spiral. “He just wanted to take one last shot. To finish everything. He didn’t deserve that. I was so sure he was gonna make it. He was a main character! But then only the robot came back… ‘Lockon! Lockon!’” he mimics the small, robotic voice terribly, and lays his head down onto the table. “Fucking Lockon…”  
  
Axel pats him on the back. “There, there, buddy.”  
  
“Wow,” Riku smirks. “I didn’t understand a word of that.”  
  
“He still hasn’t watched the second season of Gundam 00. He’s been traumatized.” The redhead nods knowingly. “As for me, it’s no contest. Husbando is Space Dandy; and waifu is Olivier Armstrong.”  
  
“Those are two totally different characters,” Roxas slurs into the table.  
  
Axel ignores him and downs his tequila in one go. “Alright, Sora. Your turn.”  
  
Fuck. He almost forgot that he was on the chopping block too. “H-how am I supposed to know? I don’t remember!” he lies.  
  
“But you still have one, so you still have to drink!” Axel points. “It took thirty minutes and three gin & tonics to get you to admit it the first time! So. Would you like for me to remind you of your anime husband?”  
  
He quickly drinks the tequila. “There! I drank it! Please don’t.”  
  
“Husband?” Riku echoes. “You can remind _me.”_  
  
Another grin splits Axel’s face. “Perfect. So, his name is Iwai and he’s from a little game called Persona 5.” Sora buries his face in his hands  again. Great. There it is.  
  
“I’m going to have to look that up later.”  
  
“Please don’t,” Sora begs again.  
  
“You might be surprised with what you find,” Axel muses. “Sora’s taste… isn’t what I expected.”  
  
Roxas laughs like he’s coughing. Sora can’t stop the glare from forming on his face.  
  
“I expected some cute, fluffy character… or maybe the cool intellectual type. But no. Rugged ex-yakuza.”  
  
Sora curls onto the table for the second time that night. “Axel, please.”  
  
Riku isn’t even laughing anymore. Sora doesn’t want to see his face. “You know, normal people usually fantasize about actors or musicians. Or people they actually _know_. ”  
  
Axel waves the words away with a frantic, sweeping hand. “But then you’re just obsessed with an actual person, and that’s weird. Let us be obsessed with our ideas. It’s not hurting anyone.”  
  
“If you say so,” he rolls his eyes.  
  
“But as for _you_ ,” Axel leans in again, and Riku inches back. “I’d say your type is… either the Ice Queen, or the Ride-or-Die Buddy character.”  
  
Roxas starts coughing again. Sora keeps his forehead glued to the table, hoping no one sees the mortified look on his face.  
  
“You think so?” Riku snorts, seemingly unperturbed.  
  
“Call it an educated guess,” he shrugs. “If you ever play any of the games Sora’s lent you, we’ll know for sure.”  
  
Sora shouts into the tabletop without thinking: “Yeah! You should play them!”  
  
Riku makes a sound like a groan. Sora knows he just rolled his eyes, he doesn’t even have to look. “Fine.”  
  
There’s a lull in the conversation. The four of them just sit and stew for a moment or two. After a while, Roxas props his chin in his hand. “Whose turn is it?”  
  
“No idea,” Axel groans. “Can’t remember. But I think I’m losing.”  
  
“You always do.”  
  
“Thanks for all the support, buddy,” he teases. Roxas laughs and shoves his arm. Axel retaliates by pulling him into a headlock of sorts. Their laughter is so easy. Sora catches himself just watching them move. All of the tequila makes them mesmerizing. He wonders if Roxas will ever tell Axel how he feels. But if all of their Saturday coffee dates are any indication… probably not. Sora props his elbows on the table and lets the warm smile settle over his face. Even if Roxas never spills his secrets, their relationship is still… enviable.  
  
His gaze flicks to his own best friend, and the vast chasm that’s spread between them. The look on Riku’s face is… odd. He’s got that crinkle on the bridge of his nose that he gets when he’s thinking really hard about something. But what on earth could he be thinking about now? Sora follows his line of sight. He’s also watching Roxas and Axel goof off across the table. What’s so weird about that?  
  
Wow. Roxas’s face is so red. That’s definitely not just the alcohol talking. He’s so bad at hiding it. It’s cute.  
  
Oh, shit. Wait—  
  
Sora looks frantically back at Riku, and they lock eyes. Shit _._ Does he…? There’s no way he could _know_ , right? Sora doesn’t move. Riku raises a questioning eyebrow and gestures with his eyes. Gestures to the other two. Sora doesn’t even _breathe_. He knows exactly what Riku is asking. But he can’t say. This isn’t his secret to tell. Please don’t pry it out of him he really _can’t say_.  
  
Apparently, his motionlessness says enough. Riku turns back to Axel and Roxas with newfound shock. Sora could crumble to dust. Of all the times for Riku to see right through him, why now!?  
  
He begins to silently beg for Roxas’s forgiveness.  He probably won’t receive it. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t say _anything_!  
  
The surprise settles on Riku’s face, and he laughs into his hand.  
  
Please don’t. Sora glances back at Roxas, and finds him quiet, glaring at the two of them with suspicious eyes. Again, Sora can’t move.  
  
“What?” Roxas demands.  
  
He can’t move at all.  
  
Riku shakes his head. He’s still laughing. “It’s nothing.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Roxas slurs, and leans onto the table. “What’s so funny?”  
  
Axel clearly rolls his eyes.  
  
“Nothing at all,” Riku deflects again.  
  
But Roxas isn’t having it. “What the hell are you laughing at, then?”  
  
“Something sad,” he smirks.  
  
Oh god. If Sora could move, he’d bury his face in his hands.  
  
That smug look only makes Roxas  angrier, which makes Riku laugh harder, which leads to Roxas shouting at Riku for one thing or another, which leads to Riku slamming the bottle of tequila down onto the table and pushing for “one last round” of the game.  
  
That doesn’t sound like a good idea.  
  
But Roxas is three sheets to the wind, and only eggs him on. “Go ahead! Try it!”  
  
“Never have I ever been in love.”  
  
All feeling leaves Sora’s body. He sits stock-still in his chair. Riku is staring at Roxas with some kind of challenging sneer. The latter, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to melt Riku with heat vision.  
  
Is that really his play? Do they actually have to participate in this round? What’s the penalty for lying?  
  
No one moves for such a long time.  
  
And then Axel stands and plucks the bottle from Riku’s grasp. “Okay! Bro Night is officially over. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for whatever conversation was about to happen.”  
  
Sora releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  
  
“So does that mean I win?” Riku smirks.  
  
Roxas twitches like he just had to stop himself from completely lashing out. “Why, you—”  
  
“I said it’s over!” Axel interrupts again, “What part of ‘not enough alcohol in the world’ do you not understand!?” The others can only watch as he reels his arm back and launches the tequila bottle across the room. It smashes against the wall into glittering confetti, and the residual liquor drips unceremoniously onto the concrete floor.  
  
Sora is still frozen in place. Did Axel just fucking throw the bottle of tequila at them!? There was still liquor in that!  
  
Riku throws his arm out. “What the hell? Now _no one_ can have enough alcohol for the conversation.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter. It still wasn’t enough.” Axel defends.  
  
“It was a simple play,” he shrugs, and gestures towards Roxas. “It’s not my fault if Shortstop wants to make it complicated.”  
  
Roxas absolutely bristles. “Who the _fuck_ are you calling Shortstop!?”  
  
Sora does his best to tune it out. The alcohol makes it easier. After all these years, he thought he’d be used to it. Roxas and Riku argue all the time. In fact, they bicker like siblings. He should be used to it. This is normal.  
  
He glances up at Axel, who is wearing an expression that clearly laments: ‘I was too late  to stop it.’  
  
Sora runs a hand through his hair. The other two are still shouting back-and-forth about nothing. Even Riku has raised his voice. Roxas must’ve said something that really got to him. They cut each other so deep sometimes… There’s only one way to immediately stop this. That is, if this tactic still works. Sora guesses it’s worth a shot. He puts his face back into his hands and mumbles to no one in particular: “I don’t feel so good.”  
  
Riku turns mid-sentence, “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”  
  
“I don’t think so. I just… wanna go to bed. Everything’s spinning.” And now that he’s saying it out-loud, he realizes that it’s not a lie.  
  
“That’s fine. We can go.”   
  
Roxas looks like he wants to say something else, but Axel wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him there. Probably to prevent him from springing an attack. Roxas remains like a furious statue. “C’mon, buddy. Time for bed.”  
  
The blonde is still glaring at Riku. He’s so mad that he can’t even speak, but things could turn violent in an instant.  
  
Sora rubs his face with both hands, hearing Axel and Riku talk about something above him, but not listening or understanding any of it. The night fell apart so quickly.  
  
Riku pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Sora. You can crash at my place.”  
  
He looks up with wide, blurry eyes. His limbs are like static. “I don’t think I can walk.”  
  
That’s such a tired stare. “Are you sure?”  
  
“I can’t feel anything anymore,” Sora admits.  
  
Riku heaves a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll carry you back.”  
  
But first, they have to make it up the stairs to the ground floor. It’s a long, clumsy process. It’s not an act, either. Forget that crazy house party, _this_ is the drunkest Sora has ever been in his life. Once they finally make it, they say their goodbyes to Axel and Roxas, and Sora climbs onto Riku’s back for the short trek home.  
  
The streets are dark and quiet. It’s also kind of muggy, which makes this even more uncomfortable.   
  
Riku doesn’t seem to mind, though. He hasn’t huffed or complained once. “I haven’t done this in a while,” he muses, probably to himself. “The more things change the more they stay the same, I guess.”   
  
What’s that supposed to mean? “What, do you make a habit of carrying drunk people around?”  
  
“Only sometimes,” he chuckles. “I have to be pretty far gone to carry a stranger. Then I just pretend they’re you.”  
  
“Pfft.” He makes that noise, but is it a compliment? Who knows. He keeps his eyes closed, head jostling softly against Riku’s shoulder. “Have you really never been in love?” What the hell? Why is he asking this? His brain is still stuck on it.  
  
He actually pauses to think about it. “I don’t think so. Have you?”  
  
Sora only makes some kind of vague, non-committal hum. It’s not a confirmation or a denial.  
  
Riku laughs through his nose. “Good talk.”  
  
“Mm.” Now he’s not sure he _can_ speak.  Everything has turned hazy. They walk in silence for a while, and acid slowly rises in Sora’s throat. It feels like if he opens his mouth again he might… “I think I might be sick.”  
  
Riku stays surprisingly calm after hearing that. “Just give me a warning, so I can throw you into some bushes.”  
  
“Please don’t throw me.”  
  
“Don’t throw up on me.”  
  
“I won’t,” he mumbles carefully. “I don’t vomit. I must look presentable at all times.”  
  
“But if you vomit, it’ll help you feel better.”  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
He  chuckles again, and readjusts Sora’s weight on his back. “Whatever, you dork.”  
  
That’s the last thing Sora remembers from that night—Riku carrying him home and laughing at his stupid jokes. He either blacks out or falls asleep with his head against his shoulder.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Axel watches Roxas carefully clunk back down the stairs. His eyes are so glassy. How many drinks did he have? Too many for his tiny body to handle. Axel is surprised that the blonde is still standing at all.  
  
He still seems pretty mad, too.  
  
“Well this Bro Night ended in disaster,” Axel laments, settling back into his chair. The smell of spilled tequila is starting to get overwhelming.  
  
Roxas shuffles across the room in search of something to clean up the mess. “Yeah,” is all he says.  
  
“Before that though… it was pretty fun. Right?”  
  
There’s a short pause. “Yeah, actually,” he admits. There’s a cleaning cloth on a nearby shelf and he snatches it up. His footsteps are clumsy and uneven as he makes his way towards the spill. “Honestly, even the disaster part was fun. Getting Riku to lose his shit is always fun.”  
  
That’s… unexpected. Axel tilts his head and the room blurs out of focus. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah… It kinda reminded me of high school.” He starts soaking up the mess with a rag, and gathering the larger shards of glass. “Riku may act all cool and collected, but if you can manage to really piss him off,” Roxas chuckles, “it’s like fireworks.”  
  
“So, pissing him off has always been a pastime of yours?”  
  
“More or less,” he sighs. “Like he doesn’t do the same to me. Haven’t you noticed already? We don’t get along. Never have.”  
  
Oh, he’s noticed. But tonight was something else entirely. Axel watches his friend closely. “So… why did Riku’s play piss you off so much?” Roxas halts with a handful of broken glass. He doesn’t answer. “I thought you were gonna deck him. Is everything okay?”  
  
“It’s fine,” he mutters, and dumps the glass into the bin.  
  
“Roxas. I’m your best friend, right? Are you hiding something from me?”  
  
“I’m not…” That’s not convincing. At all.  
  
It’s weird. Roxas is usually so chatty when he’s drunk. Axel cranes his head back to gaze at the ceiling. It’s spinning in messy spirals. “’Never have I ever been in love’…” he repeats. He hears Roxas stumble. “Are you sure it’s just nothing?”  
  
“It was a long time ago,” he blurts. “It doesn’t matter anymore now.”  
  
“Then why won’t you talk to me?” Axel pushes. No answer. Roxas is just standing by the trash bin with the sopping cloth in his fist. “Roxas?”  
  
“One day,” he says, so low and forcefully. “I’ll tell you one day, okay? Just… not now.”  
  
So it’s something like that. Axel would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed. But Roxas has made his choice, and it’s all he can ask for. “It’s alright. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Axel rakes a hand back through his hair. He doesn’t really want to let it go, but he has to. Roxas isn’t letting him anywhere near it. Whatever it is. Whatever Riku may or may not know that Axel definitely does not. He lets out a long breath. “Riku doesn’t pull any punches with you, huh?” Roxas only scoffs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad.”  
  
He plops into the chair next to Axel. “Yeah. He’s an asshole.”  
  
“True,” he laughs, “but I told you he wasn’t so bad. You know, when he’s not busy being an asshole.”  
  
Roxas snorts. “You think I don’t know that? We don’t get along, but… I didn’t always hate him.” Wow. That’s probably the nicest thing he’s ever said about the guy. He rubs his tired, blurry eyes and a sigh deflates his chest. “If he would just treat Sora better… If things would go back to how they used to be…”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“In high school—no, even before that, Riku would’ve fucked up anyone that even _looked_ at Sora the wrong way.” Then he starts chuckling. “He even made Selphie eat sand when we were like seven because she was bullying Sora.”  
  
“Damn,” Axel cackles. “So, Riku has always been intense.”  
  
“And that’s not even the worst one.” Roxas props his chin in his palm, still grinning like a fool. Axel thinks it suits him. “When we were in high school, this asshole jock got into it with Sora for dropping paint on him or something. It was totally an accident. But Sora is foolhardy as fuck, so he was gonna fight him.” Axel laughs at that.  Classic Sora. “But then Riku found out, and started spreading this rumour about the guy, that he had sexually assaulted a girl at a party… And then a bunch of other girls came forward because the rumour turned out to be _fucking true_!”  
  
Axel leans onto the table. “What the hell?”  
  
“That guy lost his scholarship and everything,” Roxas laughs. Sitting so far away from it now, it’s all he can do. “But Riku didn’t know that at the time. So he was completely okay with ruining that guy’s life because he was rude to Sora once. Crazy motherfucker.”  
  
“That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard.”  
  
Roxas slams his palms onto the table. “And that’s how it used to be! He used to put Sora first, so no matter how much I disliked him, I couldn’t hate him. But now…” he trails off, and then lays his head on the table with a groan. “Everything’s changed so much…”  
  
“Seems like it,” Axel nods.  
  
“I swear,” he slurs towards the table, “if Kid Riku could meet the Riku of today, he’d make him eat sand.” Axel bursts out laughing, and Roxas pops back upright. “I’m serious! He would!”  
  
He can’t breathe he’s laughing so hard. “I don’t doubt it. It’s just… the mental image… of a little Riku forcing his older self to eat sand is just… I…”  
  
Roxas is dying of laughter as well. “I guess that’s pretty ridiculous, huh?”  
  
They laugh hysterically for a solid minute. Axel wipes the tears from his eyes, craning his head back again, like he can get more air that way. “Maybe he’ll get his shit together soon.”  
  
Roxas scoffs. “If it’s not already too late.”  
  
Axel frowns at the ceiling. Part of him really hopes not.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Summer nights are Sora’s favourite. The air is still warm, but there’s no oppressive sun; his favourite constellations are out; and he can step out of any house or restaurant without having to suit up like he’s preparing for war. Like tonight, the air outside is alive with the scent of spices and fried food, and the brightest stars pierce through the haze of the streetlights. He watches them shimmer overhead, flashing like UFOs in the unsteady atmosphere. It takes him back. To nights with sunburned cheeks and salty lips and sandy fingers, lying on the sand and gazing at the stars as he came down from the sugar high. The young summer rush. Endless days and blistering sunsets.  
  
All those nights he and Riku spent lying on that beach, looking up at the stars and dreaming about the future. The places they’d go. The things they’d do.  
  
Sora wonders what those kids would think of them now. Would they be happy?  
  
The smell of cigarette smoke wafts down the sidewalk and pulls him back to the present.  
  
He frowns a little. This restaurant is one of his favourites, but it’s a block away from a cluster of bars and nightclubs, so there’s no telling what could come slithering down the street. Like this guy, walking at his own leisurely pace with a cigarette in his hand. He leaves a long trail of putrid smoke behind him. Sora coughs into his fist. Gross. Would Riku hurry up already? He was only going to pay the bill and follow Sora out. What’s taking so long?   
  
Or, yet… what’s that clacking sound?  
  
He turns, back towards the bars and clubs. Of course. He should’ve guessed. A girl’s high-heels. She comes down the sidewalk at a pretty good pace for heels that high, honestly. She glances up from her phone, spots Sora standing there, and her eyes light up with recognition.  
  
Wait. What?  
  
“Oh, you!” The girl points, swaying slightly on her feet. She’s definitely tipsy. “I remember you! You’re a theatre kid, right? I saw you in that play last fall. I had to see it for a class, but… you were really good.”  
  
She’s rambling a bit, but still. Sora smiles at the compliment. And thanks to his detail-oriented cousin, he’s allowed to remember his exploits in the university’s theatre department. “Yeah, that was me. Thanks.”  
  
Two other girls, presumably her friends, suddenly stumble up after her and lean on her shoulders. One has sloppy blonde hair, and the other looks like she’s had at least four more drinks than the other two.  
  
She’s also the loudest of the three. “Who’s this?”  
  
Sora does not like these odds. He’s outnumbered three-to-one.  
  
“He’s in the theatre!” The first girl explains. “Or, well, he’s a theatre kid. You know what I mean! Didn’t you see that play last year?”  
  
The drunk girl tilts her head. “I don’t remember.” Then she sets her eyes back on Sora, surveying him from top to bottom. “So, you’re an actor?” she smirks. What a… suggestive tone.  
  
“Something like that,” Sora manages to answer.   
  
“That’s pretty cool… You should come and hang out with us,” she leers. Her clothes reek of cheap vodka. “We have a pool. And more drinks.”  
  
“Look at his hair!” The blonde one giggles. She reaches for him, but he takes a quick step backwards. “I can’t get over it. He’s adorable.”  
  
He can’t stop the tense expression taking over his face. “No, thanks. Really. I’m actually waiting for my friend.”  
  
The drunk girl whines. “Then you can both come. It’ll be a party.” That doesn’t sound like any party Sora wants to be a part of.  
  
The first girl grits her teeth in embarrassment. Sora would feel bad for her if she was actually doing something to help. But she’s not doing anything. Her friends are drunk and running wild.  
  
The next person to walk out onto the sidewalk is Riku. Oh, thank the gods. Sora meets his eyes with so much fear in his face, sending a silent distress signal on all frequencies. He watches the smooth transitions of Riku’s facial expressions: the confusion; the irritation; the _anger_ ; and then… what is that? It’s so relaxed. Almost smug.   
  
Riku walks straight over to him. “Thanks for waiting.” His arm coils around Sora’s shoulders, and he leans in close. Really close. _Way too close_. Their lips are barely an inch apart. But the distance never closes.  Is this—? “Act natural,” he whispers, and Sora feels his breath on his face.  
  
So that’s the plan. He can’t even nod. He only puts on his poker face. It’s a smooth smile. “You know it.”  
  
Riku glances back at their unwanted visitors. All three of them have turned bright red. The drunkest girl tries her best to play it cool, but she can’t control her face. The first girl has her mouth covered with her hands.  
  
Sora could laugh. Why are _they_ the ones so embarrassed?  
  
The first girl finally gathers herself and mumbles a handful of apologies before grabbing her drunk friends by the arm and dragging them away. Sora can hear them not-so-quietly whisper about embarrassment and the typical stereotype of “theatre guys are always gay.” How nice.  
  
Riku huffs  as they scramble away. “That was fast.”  
  
Sora really doesn’t want to validate that all of that just happened.  
  
“C’mon. Let’s go.”  
  
“Right.” They make their way down the sidewalk, back towards the parking garage. He still can’t get it out of his head, though. He’s never been accosted by a group of girls before. That was… new. He doesn’t really like it, either. He’s just glad Riku showed up when he did. And that stage trick! He’s actually kinda proud. Riku remembered how to do it, after all this time! Sora snickers into his hand. “I can’t believe that really worked.”  
  
“It always does,” Riku grins.  
  
Huh. That’s a pretty proud tone. “So… we do that often?” he asks.  
  
There’s a clear moment of hesitation. “Often enough. We call it Plan 16. It’s usually just a prank.”  
  
“Usually?”  
  
His face has completely fallen. “I feel like it eventually turned into an excuse,” he murmurs.   
  
Sora waits for him to elaborate, or change the subject, but he’s not volunteering anything. Sora nervously pulls a hand behind his head. “But you really shocked me. Getting in my face like that.” His laugh is uneasy. “I almost thought you were really gonna kiss me.”  
  
That comment lands so heavily. Of course it does. Riku doesn’t say anything for several dragging seconds. “I wouldn’t steal your first kiss for something meaningless like that.”  
  
Oh, yeah? Sora has to stop himself from scoffing. He’s a little surprised that the bitterness is still there. It lies buried with all of the things that he’s not supposed to remember. “Of course not.”  
  
“What would you have done if I did?”  
  
That’s an interesting question. Sora can’t miss the grimace on his face as he asks it. “Well… I guess I’d be pretty bummed about it. Only because I think things like that are supposed to be special, ya know?” There’s no response. Not even a ripple of expression. “But I guess it could be worse…”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, it could’ve been someone worse. Like that pushy girl from before!” He shivers. “I’d rather it be you than her… At least I know you…” Even though they’re speaking hypothetically, even though it’s already happened, and even though they’re both lying through their teeth, Sora still feels his face turn hot.  
  
“That’s… good to know, I guess.” What kind of tone is that?  
  
Sora has no idea. Is it guilt? Relief? Why can’t he read it? All of his time spent doing character studies, and he can’t even read his best friend’s mood?  
  
“Even if you say that, I’d probably still feel like shit about it,” he sighs, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.  
  
Oh. A smile tries and fails to form on his face. The taste is too bittersweet. That might be the closest to an apology he’s ever going to get. Because even through all these lies, there’s still a speck of truth, and Sora plans on holding onto it with everything he’s got.  
  
  
.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Collapses into a heap on the floor*
> 
> I thought about just leaving my notes at that, to be honest. Ohhh my god.
> 
> Well. I went through a long bout of bad feelings about this chapter. Scenes I hated, nothing seeming right, that sort of thing. Not matter what I did, everything felt like it just didn’t fit. It was a complete change of tone and I didn’t get /why/. But then I thought: ‘You idiot. Of /course/ it’s a different tone. It’s a different environment. No one is playing by Riku’s rules anymore. They’re Sora’s rules now. It feels different because it /is/ fucking different.’
> 
> And now I feel a little better about it, ahaha…
> 
> I added a bunch of scenes that felt necessary to help bridge some gaps, which only made this chapter that much longer. I cut moments… rewrote an entire scene to be in a different POV… The process has been… strenuous, I guess. I mean seriously just look at the length of this monster good god. I’ve written behemoths of oneshots that are this long. I thought about cutting it in half, but the entire chapter has that central theme, ya know? I can’t bring myself to undermine it. So, here it is, in all its glory. This is why it took so long. This also hasn’t been beta’d! Hahaha… hah.
> 
> Just to needlessly clarify: I’m not here to advocate underage drinking or binge drinking or whatever… I’m here to say: don’t be dumb. Basically: if you’re gonna do it, do it right. Don’t drink with strangers in strange places. 
> 
> And now that that’s out of the way, today’s chapter is brought to you by Brand New: “The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows.” This genre is a little harder to define… emo/punk, I guess? It’s actually a rather dark song considering how light and fun this chapter feels. But I love contrasts~
> 
> The next chapter is not nearly as long. Thank the fucking stars.
> 
> I was also serious about being more social on the internet, because I used to be and then some things happened and I just… stopped. So, my twitter is @VaniVeniVici if anyone is interested in that sort of thing. I do cosplay things sometimes. But mostly I’m an idiot.


	7. Nice to Know You

_  
Chapter_ _7_ _) Nice to Know You_  
  
[I haven’t felt the way I feel today,  
In so long; it’s hard for me to specify.]  
  
  
  
Sora doesn’t usually come to his favourite cafe without Roxas. It’s sort of their thing.  
  
And ever since this act started, he’s really missed their weekly coffee meet-ups, with their deep conversations and self-deprecating jokes. Sure, they still go out for coffee on occasion, but they can’t exactly vent about their problems to each other like they used to. Not while Sora is… like this. It was almost therapeutic to come here once a week and complain for an hour or more.  
  
It’s all for the sake of the act. Sora can only wonder how much he’s sacrificed for this.  
  
But he does miss coming to this place, and he eventually asks Riku if they can make the trip together. After all, he can only sit alone in a coffee shop so many times before it starts to get boring.  
  
Riku agrees with no hesitation. There wasn’t ever a question.  
  
Sora snags one of his favourite seats by the window while Riku gets the drinks. It’s a weird time in the afternoon, so it shouldn’t be a long wait.  
  
He comes back with two drinks—an iced coffee and an ice cream shake. Sora smiles through the pang in his chest. He’s really grown to like the coffee smoothie, but Riku doesn’t know that. And Two-Years-Ago Sora only ever ordered the ice cream shake. Did Riku get it for him because he doesn’t know, or because he’s playing along? It’s impossible to tell.  
  
It’s been too long. Sora’s starting to lose track of what’s real. He can’t keep this up.  
  
He says his thanks and drinks the shake.  
  
  
.  
  
  
It eventually gets to the point where he can’t take it anymore. The guilt. The layers upon layers upon _layers_ of lies. He was never built for this. This level of deception. And for what? Some… selfish make-believe?  
  
Roxas makes another joke at his expense that he’s not supposed to understand, and something breaks.  
  
“I’ve been lying to you!” Sora blurts.  
  
Roxas and Axel stop dead in their tracks in the middle of the restaurant parking lot. They slowly turn around, styrofoam to-go boxes creaking in their hands.  
  
The blonde narrows his eyes dangerously. “What?”  
  
“I...” Sora feels his voice catch. Now he’s done it. What was his plan again? He really should’ve rehearsed this. Or at least prepared a script. Improv isn’t his element. Not like this. Not right now.  
  
Axel takes an absent pull of his drink and it makes a loud slurping noise.  
  
Roxas glares at both of them. “Sora, what do you mean?”  
  
“Well, you see,” he stammers, rubbing at the back of his neck. “All summer, actually…” Then he takes a deep breath. There’s nothing he can do but say it. Just… say it! “I remember everything. I always have. I never had amnesia.”  
  
Axel’s mouth is hanging open. “Are you serious?”  
  
He nods carefully, gaze falling towards the ground. “Yeah… It started out as a bad joke, really. I was just… joking. Messing with Roxas.” The blonde bristles at his mention. “But he took it so seriously… and then, I thought I’d keep it up for a little while. It was kind of nice.” They’re just staring at him now. Sora could shrink until he disappears. “Especially since a lot of stuff had happened that night… A lot of stuff I really wanted to forget.”  
  
“You mean, whatever happened between you and Riku before I found you?” Axel prods.   
  
“Yeah. It was… a real shitshow.” That’s putting it mildly. Even after all this time, Sora still thinks that way. “So I decided to just pretend that none of it ever happened. The act with Riku… You and Marluxia getting into that fight… I forgot it all. Marluxia knocking me out turned into the perfect excuse. But eventually… I didn’t know when to stop. _How_ to stop.”  
  
“Axel and Marluxia?” Roxas repeats, setting his glare exclusively on Axel.  
  
The redhead fidgets uncomfortably. “Well…”  
  
“I thought you found Sora already unconscious on the sidewalk.”  
  
Sora feels his heart drop. “Huh?” Has Axel been lying too? Did he just spill the beans?  
  
“I might’ve… modified my story a bit,” Axel admits with an uneasy grin.  
  
Roxas says nothing at first. He storms over to Axel’s waiting vehicle and leans against the side. That glare could cut Axel in half. “Talk.”  
  
The other two exchange glances. Sora does his best to apologize with his eyes, but Axel doesn’t seem to receive it.  
  
“Both of you,” Roxas specifies.  
  
Yeah, Sora thinks, he’s not going to get off so easily. No surprise there.  
  
Axel stumbles over his words for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin.  
  
So Sora takes the lead. They might as well start from the beginning. Of everything. He opens with the crumbling of Plan 16—the party that went awry. The attempted confrontation. The agony. He gives more details to Roxas than he did Kairi, who’s known everything from the start. Roxas deserves that much courtesy after all this, right? “He was with the guy from the bar, the one we were trying to fool the whole time,” Sora mumbles. “I still don’t know what kind of relationship they have… or had. I really don’t want to.” Axel is gaping at him now. Roxas only looks annoyed. “And by that point… I finally gave up. I walked away from him. I actually walked away.” His throat is aching. Retelling the story is just reliving it. “I’d had enough.” He pulls in a sharp breath of air. Damn it. Don’t cry. Not now.  
  
“That explains why you were so upset,” Axel murmurs. “Wow… and I thought my breakup was bad.”  
  
Sora makes a sound like a laugh. No more. Please.  
  
At last, Axel catches on. “So that’s when I found Sora,” he continues, glancing back to Roxas. “He was a mess—standing on the sidewalk crying his eyes out. It looked like he was on his way to your place.” Sora nods to confirm. “I picked him up and talked him down. Then Larxene called and ended our relationship over the phone.”  
  
Roxas tilts his head. “And you decided to go confront her then and there?”  
  
“It was suspicious!” he deflects. Roxas looks like he doesn’t believe him. Honestly, Sora doesn’t blame him. Axel recounts the argument with Larxene, and finding Marluxia hiding in a bedroom. He glosses over the fight in the yard. A fight he ultimately lost, even if Sora shoved Marluxia off of him in the end. “And then he threw Sora off and _wham_! Out cold. I had to call an ambulance, since the other two ran away… And then I called you.” He gestures at Roxas.  
  
The blonde is still glaring at him with murderous intent. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Axel shrugs. “Honestly? With everything that happened with Sora, I didn’t want to pile my shit on top of it. I figured you had enough to worry about. You didn’t need to be fretting over me, too. And since Sora didn’t remember… it became unimportant.” He bows his head. He knows it’s not good enough. “I’m sorry, Roxas.” It’s the most sincere tone Sora has ever heard him use.  
  
Roxas is just standing there. His fists are clenched and shoved into his jacket pockets, but Sora can still see them shaking. He looks almost… lost. Sora knows he’s furious, but there’s something else underneath that he can’t quite read. Something… desperate.  
  
Sora lowers his head as well. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Roxas doesn’t answer.  
  
Axel fidgets uncomfortably in the silence. “Well then… It looks like we’ve all been exposed, huh?”  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t realize that you hadn’t told anyone about what really happened between you and Larxene,” Sora says.  
  
He shrugs it off. “It’s fine. I should’ve come clean sooner.”  
  
“Yeah. Same.”  
  
Axel glances at Roxas, who still remains silent and fuming. The redhead sighs. There’s no helping it. “I guess that makes Roxas the real victim in all this,” he offers. “He’s the only one who hasn’t been lying all summer.”  
  
Sora nods. “I guess so.”  
  
“Have you told Riku?”  
  
He shakes his head. “Not yet. But I will. Soon.”  
  
“You’d better hurry, before Roxas gets his hands on him.”  
  
“I know,” his smirk is bitter. “I’m sure Roxy wants to wring his neck by now… But I’ve put him through enough.”  
  
Roxas scoffs loudly.  
  
Sora expected that. “At least promise me that you won’t do anything until I tell him the truth.”  
  
“Fine,” he spits.  
  
Sora tugs at the back of his neck. “I got pretty carried away with this one. I’ve been thinking for months about how to tell you guys the truth… how to tell Riku… But all I can do is come clean.” He looks back towards Roxas and meets that scowl with a sheepish-looking grin. “I hope you’ll forgive me for dragging you into this. You too, Axel.”  
  
Axel waves his hands. “I was roped in as soon as I stopped the car that night. No worries.” Then a smirk breaks over his face. “Right now, I’m more impressed than mad. I can’t believe you were actually able to pull this off. The whole summer!”  
  
“Yeah,” he coughs. “It wasn’t easy. But it was… kinda fun, too.” Axel chuckles at that, but Roxas still says nothing. Sora tries again: “C’mon, Roxas. Will you ever speak to me again?”  
  
“Eventually,” he mutters. “I still don’t know what to say. I feel like I’ve been made a fool of.”  
  
Sora nods again. “Yeah… Yeah. I get that. And I’m sorry. It really didn’t have anything to do with you… you just got caught up in it.”  
  
“Well. To be fair,” Roxas crosses his arms, “I get why you didn’t tell me at first. If I’d known about everything that lead to the accident back then, Riku would’ve woken up in a hospital bed next to you.”  
  
“That’s what I was afraid of.”  
  
Roxas takes a moment to do nothing but stare him down. “How can you just smile after everything he did to you? Why do you keep forgiving him?”  
  
He merely shrugs. “You know why.”  
  
And Roxas pulls a hand down his face. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”  
  
“So I’ve been told,” he grins. “But aren’t you the same?”  
  
He immediately turns red. “I’m not!”  
  
“Well… maybe not,” Sora laughs.  
  
“And you two have officially lost me,” Axel chimes.  
  
Roxas indignantly returns his hands to his pockets. “It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Just an inside joke,” Sora winks. It’s not a total lie.  
  
Axel looks like he doesn’t believe either of them. “If you say so.”  
  
“So,” Roxas starts carefully, scrambling to change the subject, “when are you going to tell Riku? There’s only a few days left of the summer.”  
  
Three, to be exact. It’s really down the wire now. Sora wrings his hands together. “Maybe tonight… or tomorrow. Depending on how things go.”  
  
Roxas’s gaze is steady, and cuts right through him. “And are you going to tell him _everything_?”  
  
That tone. Sora knows exactly what Roxas is insinuating. “I…” he stumbles. “I don’t know. I don’t think it would make any difference… Not now.”  
  
“Then all the more reason to say it,” he pushes.  
  
Sora laughs through his nose. He’s still not sure.  
  
Axel tilts his head. His expression is so serious, like he’s upset about being left out of the loop. “Is this another inside joke?”  
  
“Something like that,” Roxas mumbles. He keeps his eyes locked on Sora. “You’re going over there tonight?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
It takes several seconds for him to figure out what he wants to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Good luck.”  
  
Right. He’s really going to need it.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Sora hasn’t felt nervousness like this since before all of this stupidity started. How does he end up getting himself into these messes? This has to be one of the craziest and dumbest things he’s ever done in his life—and he’s done plenty of dumb and crazy things. Kairi will gladly attest to that. The endgame of this act was always going to be catastrophic. He knew that.  
  
But as he sits on the sofa next to Riku and thinks about all of the hours of their summer vacation they’ve wasted sitting here, in these very spots… honestly, he has to say it was worth it. These last few months have been… everything he ever wanted.  
  
So, how is he going to destroy it?  
  
He can’t bring himself to come out and say it, like he did with Roxas and Axel. Not like this. Riku deserves a segue. Something. To lessen the blow.  
  
Guilt creeps up Sora’s throat as they sit in silence, messing with their phones and just existing beside one another. He’s thought for so long on how to bring it up. How to say it. But the script never forms. His brain refuses to plan it, but it _has_ to happen. He can’t lie forever. He shouldn’t have lied for this long in the first place!  
  
It’s a good thing he brought a bunch of video games with him in case he chickened out, because it looks like he’s going to need them. He sighs at his phone without meaning to. So much for coming clean.  
  
And he only just realizes that he’s been staring at the same screen for the past few minutes. He’ll never get anywhere this way.  
  
There’s a small sound from Riku’s phone that grabs Sora’s attention. A message. Riku doesn’t react. If anything, he seems mildly concerned. Weird. They sit for another moment or two before the phone chimes again. It’s another message. That’s… strange. Riku clicks his tongue. The irritation is clear on his face as he types his reply.  
  
“Everything okay?” Sora asks.  
  
“It’s fine,” he says, and tucks the phone into his pocket. “So, what are we doing tonight?”  
  
The matter is closed, then. Sora wants to say something else, but he can’t quite put his finger on what. Something that he still _needs_ to say… Does he want to say it because he’s still under the guise of faux amnesia? Or can he not say it _because_ of the amnesia? He really doesn’t know. So he just turns back to his backpack of video games. “Well, I brought some games for us to play… and my Switch, so we can play Mario Kart, or…” Why is he so stiff? “Ya know, whatever you want.” He tries to shake off his unease. This is ridiculous. How is he ever going to tell Riku the truth at this rate?  
  
Riku plucks the aforementioned kart racer out of the bag. “I actually know how to play this one. The controls haven’t changed too much, right?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Then let’s do it.”  
  
Sora grins, and starts digging the console out from the bottom of the bag. “Sure. Let me just—” but he’s cut off by a phone chime. It’s longer this time. An actual ring.  
  
Riku groans as he retrieves his phone. He only glances at the screen before answering: “What?” Wow. Not even a greeting. Sora almost laughs. There’s muttering on the other side that Sora can’t make out at all. “No,” Riku says like he’s already had to say it thousand times before. The muttering returns. “What does that matter?”  
  
Sora slowly sets the game console on the table. He has to at least pretend he’s not eavesdropping.  
  
“I don’t know, honestly,” he sighs long and deep. That’s a pretty drastic change in tone. “That’s fine with me.” The voice on the phone returns. It’s loud and final. “Right,” is all Riku says, and he ends the call. But he doesn’t look up from the screen. What is he thinking?  
  
Sora squirms in his seat. “What was that about?” Is he allowed to ask this?  
  
“Just a party,” Riku shrugs. He’s still staring down at the phone, mouth in a straight line.  
  
Sora can’t read that expression. There’s a nervous twisting in his stomach. “So… are you gonna go?”  
  
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to.”  
  
“Your friend sounded pretty upset. Are you sure?”  
  
“Friend?” he echoes. “I don’t even know his last name.” His phone is buried in his pocket once again. “It’s fine. I’d rather stay here anyway.”  
  
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know. If you want to go, just go.” Why is he pushing? Testing like this? “I’m just missing a few memories. I can take care of myself. I can go home and play video games. I have a bunch that I don’t remember playing, but Axel says I love them. I get to experience them all over again. That’s pretty cool, right?” Riku appears unimpressed. Sora sinks deeper into the sofa. “So, don’t let me stop you. I wouldn’t want to mess up your night because you pity me.”  
  
“I’m not staying out of pity. It’s because you’re my best friend and I _want_ to. There’s no place I’d rather be.” Sora meets his eyes. That gaze is intense. It’s sincere. “Now shut up and tell me what game we’re playing.”  
  
He’s… actually serious. Sora can’t take his eyes off of him. “Right. Yeah,” he stammers. A game controller creaks in his tightening grip. He really can’t think straight anymore.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Huh?” he jerks. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. That was just… really serious all of a sudden.” He tries to laugh, to make it jovial, but he can’t. Why is that?  
  
He hears Riku sigh. “I guess it was… But I needed to say it. I really should’ve said it sooner.”  
  
Sora only makes a confused noise. He can’t speak.  
  
“I should’ve said it months ago… years ago.” He stands up abruptly, like he can’t sit still. Like he’s trying to get away. “No, I shouldn’t even _need_ to say it. There should be no questioning it.”  
  
This silence. What does he say? Sora’s lips are moving but… nothing comes out. Come on. Two-Years-Ago Sora would say something. He would laugh. Crack a stupid joke to lighten the mood. _Something_!  
  
Riku isn’t even facing him anymore. “Look, Sora, I… I’m sorry.”  
  
“What for?” he murmurs. The words seem to just come out on their own.  
  
“For being such a shitty friend.”  
  
His throat is aching now. Come _on_ , Sora. Get it together! “Didn’t you already apologize for that?” He decides to stand as well. Anything. Some kind of reaction. A connection forged from being on the same level. “I already forgave you.”  
  
“No, you don’t remember, so I don’t think you really get it.” He starts counting on his fingers, “My social connections are fucked. My entire sophomore year is nothing but a blur. The sex, and drugs, and all the times you’ve brought me back from the brink of death… Our friendship…” Then he shakes his head, and finally turns back towards him. “Really, the only thing in my life that isn’t completely fucked up is my grades… and I’m _still_ not sure how I’ve managed to pull that off.” His laugh is hollow and disbelieving. “I’ve used you… broken so many promises… and crossed lines I really shouldn’t have. Sora, I… barely know you anymore. After you left, on the night of the accident, I looked all over for you… but I had no idea where to actually _search_. I only knew of three places you would go. It’s fucking _wrong_. Axel gave me shit for it, too. And I deserve it. I didn’t know where to look for you. I didn’t know about you playing that role in the student showcase last year. Hell, I just met your theatre friends a few months ago. I didn’t know you were into cosplay, or that you entered contests. I didn’t know that you really like coffee smoothies!”  
  
Sora forces a small smile. “I thought I didn’t like coffee.”  
  
“Well apparently you do now. Axel gave me shit for _that_ , too. Called me a moron…” He shoves his hands in his pockets, as if hiding something. “And it’s all my fault. How did we go from best friends to strangers? Why haven’t you abandoned me yet?”  
  
Sora swallows the truth back down. “Do you really think I’d ever do that?” His voice is so small.  
  
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he admits. The pause doesn’t last long. He meets Sora’s gaze with an earnest ferocity. “That’s why I’m apologizing now, and telling you that I’m going to do better. I have to. Because I’m worried that, once you finally remember everything, you’ll never speak to me again.” Sora honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. Riku refuses to break that stare. “You have every right to do that, but I’m still going to fight like hell to prevent it. Even if I don’t deserve it. I’m going to get my act together, and you won’t have to worry anymore.” Sora is certain he’s heard these words before, and yet… “I’m going to fix everything. I promise.”  
  
Is it really empty this time? Sora tilts his head. He wants to believe it so badly. “Didn’t we already promise on that?”  
  
“Maybe… but we didn’t pinky promise, right?” He steps over and holds out his little finger. The sacred promise. It feels so final.  
  
Well, Sora thinks, it _is_ the end of the summer. Only three days left. So he lets himself believe in it, and hesitantly accepts the offer.  
  
Riku’s grip is strong. “Now if I ever break it, you get to break my finger.”  
  
Sora laughs. “Is that really how those work?”  
  
“According to _you_ ,” he grins. “But honestly, if I break this promise, feel free to break every bone in my body. I’m kind of shocked that you haven’t already…”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
Their fingers are still locked, and Riku is still staring. But his expression slowly softens. He speaks up just before the moment turns awkward: “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but you’re the most incredible person I know.”  
  
The breath gets caught in his throat. “Huh?” Such an intelligent answer.  
  
Riku just smirks. “Really.”  
  
He wants to ask why. He’s hungry for every detail and scrap of memory Riku has to offer. For any reason he has to support that opinion. But he can’t ask for that. That’s not something you’re supposed to ask for. And if Sora knows Riku at all, he’s not going to elaborate.  
  
So Sora smiles. Just knowing that much is more than enough. “Thanks.”  
  
His smirk cuts deeper. “What’s with the waterworks?”  
  
“H-huh?” He brings both hands to his face. Damn it. There are tears rolling down his cheeks. He tries to rub them away. “Shit.”  
  
“It’s pretty easy to tell when you’re fake-crying,” Riku laughs, “because your real cry isn’t cute at all.”  
  
“Crying isn’t supposed to be cute! This isn’t an anime!”  
  
“It’s _r_ _eally_ not cute,” he repeats, and lightly tousles his hair. “You’ve cried a lot this summer.”  
  
“Yeah, and I wonder who’s to blame for that?”  
  
There’s a floating moment of silence. “Right. It’s my fault.”  
  
His face is still soaked with tears. Why is he even crying in the first place? “Ugh. Why won’t it _stop_?”An extra set of fingers brush away some of the moisture. Sora opens his watery eyes and meets Riku’s intense gaze. He stops breathing again.  
  
“I’m sorry for everything,” he murmurs. “I won’t make you cry anymore. Okay?”  
  
Has he ever heard that tone before? He doesn’t think so. He has to believe in those words. He _needs_ to. “Okay.”  
  
The corners of Riku’s mouth twitch upwards. “Your crying face is so gross.”  
  
And Sora shoves him hard in the chest. “Shut up!”  
  
He barely moves back a step. Both hands rest firmly on Sora’s shoulders. “But you don’t have to worry. The person that keeps making you cry is gone. I’ve taken care of him.”  
  
“Did you make him eat sand?” he scoffs.  
  
That grin doesn’t fade at all. “I buried him in it.”  
  
Sora laughs weakly. For the first time in a while, he feels whole. Like everything before him is real. It isn’t empty. He believes in it. And even if it eventually falls apart, he only needs it to be true for a little while longer. It’s the end of the summer—the end of the lies. It has to be.  
  
So he decides: this is enough.  
  
  
.  
  
  
It’s one of those slow summer mornings. The air is still cool, but it’s late enough that the sun is hot. And inside, a breeze blows in from the open window, curtains billowing lazily like a ship on clam, open waters. A steaming mug of coffee sits on the side table, and some old cartoon is playing softly from the television.  
  
No plans. No trouble.  
  
Riku stares at the ceiling from his spot on the couch, floating in a dreamy haze. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time. So… at peace with everything. He can’t remember the last time he just laid down and did nothing. Not to procrastinate, or even take a breather. Just… to do nothing.  
  
It’s nice. He hasn’t felt this good in so long. He could bottle it up and keep it forever. The scent of hot coffee and fresh-cut grass and chlorine and everything good in this world.  
  
Sora sits down on the arm on the couch. That warm, calm feeling only multiplies. “What’s up?”  
  
“Nothing at all,” he smiles.  
  
“Oh, yeah? No plans on a Saturday?”  
  
“None. You?”

Sora nods, absently watching whatever cartoon is on the TV. “Yeah, actually. There’s something I need to do. A few somethings, really.”  
  
“Do you want some help?”  
  
Sora laughs softly through his nose. “That’s not… really possible.”  
  
Riku has no idea what that means, but shrugs it off.  
  
“Yeah,” he groans as he stands. “I’ve put it off for long enough.”  
  
Riku sits up with an affirmative hum. He watches Sora down the last of his orange juice as he makes his way across the room.  
  
He hesitates by the door. There’s a strange look on his face, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.  
  
“Will I see you later?” Riku asks from behind his mug of coffee.  
  
Sora’s eyes are far away. He won’t look at him. “Probably not,” he sighs.  
  
“Oh.” He can’t help but be a little disappointed.  
  
Sora shifts uneasily on his feet. “Yeah, I…” then he stops, gaze dropping to the floor. “There’s something I need to tell you.”  
  
That seems kind of ominous. “What is it?”  
  
He pulls in a huge breath. It takes him several seconds to get the words out. “I… remember.”  
  
Riku feels the air leave him. “What?”  
  
“Actually…” he laughs without mirth, “I’ve… always remembered. I never forgot anything. These past two years… what happened that night… all of it. I just… _wanted_ to forget it all. So I did.”  
  
His mouth shapes words that he can’t vocalize. The amnesia… It was just an act? “Sora—”  
  
“I won’t… apologize for lying, because Roxas has been telling me for _so long_ to do something selfish for _once_ in my life… and I don’t think that what I wanted was too much to ask for.” Sora finally meets his eyes. It freezes him in place. “I just wanted my best friend back for _one last summer_. I wanted to go back, before these last two years, before whatever-it-is fell apart, or got between us… I wanted to pretend like none of it ever happened. And it worked. This summer has been so much fun, but all it does is remind me of something I might never get back.” He swallows thickly, keeping his voice level. “I don’t know when I was demoted from your Best Friend to your Contingency Plan… or ‘the guy that holds your hair back while you puke into a bucket after having a fifth of vodka and a line of ketamine’… But, you know, you never stopped being my best friend. I guess that’s why it’s taken me so long to just—” he stops to catch his breath. This is taking everything he has. He’s trying so hard just to hold himself together.  
  
“You’re right,” Riku admits. He can only look at the floor. “I haven’t been… good to you. At all. I’ve ignored you, and used you… hurt you… but I’m an idiot. You mean a lot more to me than that.” Sora still doesn’t say anything. “I meant what I said yesterday. I’m trying to get my shit together, and I can’t promise that it’ll be enough—I can’t say that I deserve it—but I’m trying. And honestly… I was just thinking of how great this summer has been. That’s because of you, ya know. I feel… good, for once. It’s been so long—I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.”   
  
Sora’s smile is bitter and sad. He takes Riku’s words in, but it’s clear that he has no plan on engaging them. Not right now. It’s already too late. “I wanted to tell you the truth—everything—before I left.” Riku shoots him a questioning glance. Sora only shrugs. “I’m transferring. To RGU. I was accepted into their conservatory program…. Move-In is in two days.”  
  
His legs move on their own. He’s on his feet before he knows it. “What?” That can’t be right. “No… you’re lying, right? You wouldn’t leave just because of this.”  
  
Sora hums a laugh. “I’m not leaving because of you. _I_ don’t run away from my problems. Their program is really great. That’s why I applied in the first place.” That smile. That strained, bleeding _smile_. “These last couple of months have been great. Really. Even if it _was_ all an act. It’s probably… the best summer of my life. So, thank you for that. I wanted to leave on a good note.” Sora tries to turn that smile into a genuine one, but he can’t seem to do it. His teeth are clenched too tightly. So he just nods. “I’ll keep in touch. See you around.”  
  
And then he’s gone.  
  
Riku falls back onto the couch, morning shattered. If only he’d bottled up that last moment. He could really use a hit right now.  
  
  
.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Does this count as a cliffhanger? 
> 
> This chapter only took this long to finish because of the holidays… and because I keep writing on Other Things and getting distracted. I’m terrible. I also don’t have a lot to say this time around? Well. That Perfect Summer Day bit makes me so nostalgic…
> 
> Today’s chapter is brought to you by Incubus: “Nice to Know You.” One of the easiest chapters to title, honestly. The genre is kind of… alternative-metal. I think. Probably.
> 
> We’re really approaching the endgame now! Time to place your bets!


	8. Vindicated

_  
Chapter 8) Vindicated_  
  
[And I am flawed,  
But I am cleaning up so well.]  
  
  
  
Axel is pulled from a dead, dreamless sleep by the incessant ringing of his cellphone. What the heck? _This_ early?  During the _summer?_ And just when he was enjoying his comfortable void…  
  
He groggily searches through the sheets for the device. It’s got to be in this tangled mess somewhere… There! The screen displays a number he doesn’t recognize. He answers it anyway.  
  
“What?” he barks into the phone.  
  
“Hello,” a robot voice responds with unnatural inflection. He raises an eyebrow. Apparently, it’s a collect call from… the local police department? What? “If you wish to accept the call, please press 3. If not, please hang up.”  
  
Well. What the hell? He’s kind of interested now. He presses 3. Let’s see what this is all about.  
  
A low, pitiful voice comes through the speaker a moment later: “Axel?”   
  
He instantly bolts upright, and almost falls out of bed. “Roxas!?”  
  
“You know how you always say I can call you for anything…?”  
  
Axel is already out of bed and reaching for the nearest pair of jeans. “Roxas, what happened? Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah… I’m fine,” he mumbles. It isn’t very convincing. “Just a few bruises.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Another long silence. “I might’ve… gotten into a fight.”  
  
He pauses with a (probably) clean shirt halfway over his head. “It wasn’t with Riku, was it?”  
  
“What? No!” Roxas scoffs, voice finally rising to a normal level.  
  
“Then who?”  
  
It feels like it takes an hour for Roxas to answer. “Marluxia.”   
  
Axel stands unmoving for a long time.  
  
“Axel?”  
  
“I’ll be right there,” he murmurs, and softly hangs up.  
  
  
.  
  
  
“Let’s just calm down,” the officer says sheepishly, but Roxas isn’t hearing any of it. Not when Larxene and Marluxia are still standing _right_ _there!_  
  
But  besides that, why is _he_ the only one in a cell!? He’s not the only aggressor  here! He tugs at the tall metal bars, as if it’ll help. It doesn’t. “I’ll calm down when you _let me out!_ ” And he hears Larxene scoff.  
  
The officer looks at him with some kind of bemused grin. “And you’re only _in there_ because you’re being belligerent.”  
  
Roxas scowls. Is this guy looking down on him?  
  
“So just sit tight for a minute while we get this all sorted.” His arms cross over a strong chest, donned with a police badge and name tag. ‘Officer Fair,’ huh? How ironic. This isn’t fair at all!  
  
“Then at least put  them in a cell too!” Roxas yells.  
  
“Please,” Larxene mutters, “cages are just what you do with _wild animals_.”  
  
“Way too good for a bitch harpy like you, then!”   
  
“Why you—” she clenches her fists, but doesn’t attack. She can’t. Not here.  
  
Marluxia stands silently beside her, spotted with bandages and bruises. Roxas feels such pride every time he sees the livid embarrassment in his eyes.  
  
If only he could get a few more hits in, then maybe they’d  finally be even. “Come on,” Roxas pushes, “one more round. It was just a friendly brawl. I might even let you win this time.”   
  
Oh, man. The look on Marluxia’s face. It’s better than drugs. Roxas can’t stop his smile.  
  
“We should press charges, you little shrimp!” Larxene screeches.  
  
“Go ahead!” Roxas pulls at the bars again. “Then Sora will file charges for his injuries from earlier. Remember that, Marluxia? You put him in the hospital. That’s a _felony_ , motherfucker!”  
  
Officer Fair brings a hand to his head. “This is gonna be more paperwork than I thought.” He wanders out of the room with nothing but a “Hang tight.”  
  
But Larxene isn’t done arguing. Not by a long shot. “That was an accident. You’re the one coming to us with malicious intent!” Those words sound so strange coming out of her mouth. She’s just parroting her favourite crime drama or something.  
  
In fact, that’s _exactly_ what it sounds like. Which means she’s clueless. Perfect. “I’ve spent all night looking at case files and legal documents! So I know what I’m talking about. Do you really want to test your luck?” And he grins, because he knows he’s got her pinned. What is it that Axel is always saying? Oh, right. “It’s Mutually Assured Destruction.”  
  
She only makes noises for a moment. All of her words are gone. She has to devolve back to insults. “Listen here, you little runt!”   
  
And then Axel finally comes through the door, and the entire room falls silent.  
  
Roxas is holding his breath, hands slowly tightening around metal bars. His friend looks at him like he’s staring into the sun. That’s such a disappointed gaze. Roxas is mortified.   
  
Axel’s eyes flick towards Larxene and Marluxia, and he smirks at all the scrapes and bruises decorating Marluxia’s face. “Rough night, Marcy?”  
  
Marluxia only glares. He doesn’t honor him with a response either.  
  
Larxene snarls. “This is your fault. You sicced your little attack dog on us, didn’t you?”  
  
What did she just call him? Roxas starts fighting against the bars again.  
  
“Believe me, Larxene. I had nothing to do with this,” Axel sighs. “Roxas acted on his own. I never wanted to see either of you ever again. That’s the truth.”  
  
“The feeling is mutual,” she mutters.  
  
“I just came here to get Roxas. Then, we can all go our separate ways. Permanently.” He folds his arms against his chest. “Ya know, it’s weird. I don’t hate either of you. You’re both incredibly shitty people, but I don’t hate you. In fact, I wish you the best.” That easy smile… He’s not lying.  
  
Larxene’s glare is still suspicious.  
  
“It hasn’t been nice knowing you, Larxene. I hope I never see your face again.”  
  
She flips some hair off of her shoulder and scoffs. “We can only hope. Have a nice life.” That’s such a bitter tone for such a… nice sentiment.  
  
“Now, then,” Axel grumbles, switching his attention back to Roxas. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” That doesn’t sound good.  
  
Officer Fair strolls back into the room with a messy clipboard in his grip. He runs a hand through black, slicked-back hair and scans the paperwork. “Are you here for him?” he asks Axel, gesturing to the blonde boy behind bars.  
  
“Yeah, that’s my idiot,” the redhead sighs again. “I guess I’ll claim him.”  
  
The officer chuckles. “Great. Just sign here.” He hands Axel the clipboard, and once everything is in order, releases Roxas from the cell.  
  
The blonde carefully slides up next to Axel. “Thanks.”   
  
“Don’t mention it,” he mutters.  
  
Roxas swears internally. He is definitely mad.  
  
There’s so much paperwork to fill out before they can leave. Marluxia declines to press charges against Roxas, and Axel agrees that it’s because of Mutually Assured Destruction. They sign several papers and jump through bureaucratic hoops for ages. Finally, Roxas gets to reclaim his belongings and leave this mess behind.  
  
He gets his cellphone back and finds only a single message from earlier this morning:  
  
Sora:  
‘I told him’  
  
Oh, shit. Roxas takes a deep breath, as if to brace himself. He really doesn’t have time to deal with all of Sora’s problems right now.  
  
So he responds simply: ‘Everything? Or just part of it?’  
  
Several seconds tick by with no reply. Roxas understands this answer. Sora didn’t tell him everything. Coward.  
  
He looks up from the screen and finds Axel’s glare. It’s like a kick to the chest. Roxas has to swallow back his shame. He’s also a coward.  
  
Axel jerks his head towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here already.”  
  
Roxas just nods and pockets his phone. “Sure.”  
  
They leave the police station in silence. Roxas watches the thoughts coursing through Axel’s face, running through his head. He can’t identify them. They reach the car without saying a word. Axel cranks the engine and rolls out onto the street. Still nothing. Roxas sighs towards the floorboards. Will he ever say anything?  
  
Fingers tap on the steering wheel. The radio is just loud enough to be noticed but not heard.  
  
Roxas can’t take it anymore. “Look, Axel—”  
  
“Why’d you have to do something like that?” His voice is surprisingly soft, but of course, Roxas can feel the hidden thorns.  
  
“I just… wanted to make something right. _Anything_.”  
  
“You know how crazy Larxene is. You’re lucky she just called the cops,” he scolds. “And Marluxia is a fucking wildcard. You saw what he did to Sora.”  
  
“That’s one of the reasons _why_ I did it.  I’m tired of people I care about getting screwed over.”  
  
Axel scoffs. “So you decided to go beat the shit out of Marluxia?”  
  
“If that’s what it takes.”  
  
“Roxas, you’re fucking crazy, you know that?”  
  
“I know!” he shouts. “But I can’t help it. I was just so _mad_ , and…”  
  
Axel shakes his head. “I get that, but still. You went overboard. What were you even trying to achieve?”  
  
“What does it matter? It’s not like I’m making a habit out of it. I did it for _you_ too, ya know. I only get this crazy when you’re involved. I can’t  ever keep my cool when it comes to you, and I just… It’s like you mess with my head…”  
  
He glances over a few times. “And what does _that_ mean?”  
  
Roxas feels the sudden panic wash over him. “It doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
Axel doesn’t believe that for a second, and slams on the brakes. “Nah, Roxy. _What does that mean_?”  
  
“I said it was nothing!”  
  
“I want the truth.”  
  
“No, you don’t!” Roxas seems to regret saying that as soon as it leaves his mouth. He reaches for the door, and Axel swiftly locks them  inside.  
  
“Talk.” The blonde remains silent. He stares straight ahead and doesn’t move. Axel leans in close, hands gripping the steering wheel. “Roxas, I will crash this car right now and kill us both, I swear to god.”  
  
Roxas only gapes at him for a second before they both burst out laughing. And Axel says _he’s_ the crazy one…   
  
Axel wipes a tear from his eye. “Roxas, buddy. Talk to me. What’s the matter?”  
  
“You really wanna know?” he gasps for breath.  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
His tone is so genuine. Roxas can’t hold on. “Well… you know how Sora will do almost anything to help Riku?”  
  
Axel huffs. “Yeah. It’s like he’s in love with the guy.” Roxas gives a half shrug, but can’t bring himself to continue. Axel reads his silence, and his jaw falls open. “No shit,” he whispers. “Well… I guess I should’ve seen that coming, but I didn’t want to assume.”  
  
Roxas gives him a look. “You found him sobbing on the side of the road like a lost child.”  
  
“Hey,” he points, “friend break-ups are just as painful as romantic ones. Trust me.”   
  
“If you say so.”  
  
“Man. Poor Sora,” Axel grimaces. “He can do better.”  
  
“Anyway… Sora has spent the last two years getting hurt over and over. We have coffee together every week, and Sora whines to me about his problems…” he trails off. “And… I whine to him about mine. They’re actually… pretty similar.”  
  
Axel studies him for a long time. “Roxas, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  
  
“Probably,” he murmurs.   
  
His hand loudly smacks the steering wheel. “How could you ever compare me to Riku like that? Fuck. I’m so mad I don’t know what to do.” Roxas’s face twists up in confusion. “I don’t treat you like that, do I? You don’t cry because of me like Sora does, right? No way. I’m so much better! I would never stomp all over your feelings, or use you, or ignore you—”  
  
“That’s not the part that’s similar, you numbskull!” Roxas snaps.  
  
Axel just smirks. “I know. But it made you laugh, didn’t it?”  
  
He didn’t even realize he was smiling. How does Axel do that? “… Yeah.”   
  
He spends a few seconds studying the thin layer of dust covering the dashboard. Roxas impatiently shifts in his seat while Axel gathers his thoughts. “Never have I ever been in love…” he murmurs, mostly to himself. Like some sort of reminder. “So you really feel that way about me, huh?”  
  
Roxas softly nods. “Yeah… I do. For a while now.”   
  
“Wow. That’s incredible.”  
  
“Is that all you have to say?”  
  
“What else _can_ I say?” he laughs  like he doesn’t know what else to do. “But… Well…” He stays quiet for a long time. Roxas can barely hold still. “I guess… I’m open to the idea.”  
  
His heart stops. “Huh?”  
  
“I think we could give it a shot. Later. Eventually. Slowly,” Axel grumbles. “Look, Roxas, I just got out of a long, dysfunctional relationship. I’m in no position to accept anything from you. And I don’t want to jump headlong into something that could potentially destroy our friendship. Honestly, I haven’t even considered getting into another relationship since everything exploded with Larxene. I need… to get myself together first.” Impatient fingers drum on the steering wheel. “And I _know_ you can help me with that. You’re my best friend. But I’m not going to dump all my problems onto you.”  
  
“I wouldn’t mind,” Roxas mumbles.  
  
“I know you wouldn’t, but that’s not the point. I don’t want you to end up like Sora. I can clean up my own mess.”  He finally meets Roxas’s eyes, and Roxas can’t breathe. “And while I do that… I’d really like for you to be there. I don’t want you to worry. I’m not going to take advantage of you. If you really feel that way about me, I’m going to take it super seriously. I’ll carry your heart like my own. I promise you that.” Roxas makes a face. How mushy. “Don’t ever be afraid to tell me if you’re hurting, okay? We have to be open, and we’ll take it slow. Ease into it.” Then he smiles a bit. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll steal my heart one day. I guess you _are_ kinda cute.” He reaches over and ruffles blonde hair, and Roxas instantly smacks his hand away. Axel grins  at his glare. “You know, in a ‘growling puppy’ sort of way.”  
  
That smile is contagious. Axel has always been the best at acting like a fool to get what he wants. It’s just the medicine Roxas needed. “Thanks.”  
  
“Anytime,” he winks, and puts the car in drive. “Now that we’ve fixed _you_ , let’s go knock some sense into Riku.”  
  
Roxas is already making a fist. “Gladly.”  
  
  
.  
  
  
It’s a short drive. Roxas marches up to the door of Riku’s flat with a sour expression twisting his face. Axel stays close behind and keeps himself passive and unassuming with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Which means he doesn’t plan on helping. Roxas doesn’t care either way. He can handle this himself.  
  
“Remember, Roxy: pick your battles,” Axel warns.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” And he knocks roughly on the door. Riku barely opens it before Roxas kicks it in and cuffs him across the jaw. The force sends him staggering backwards, and Roxas stays hot on his heels.  
  
Axel sighs and follows the two inside.  
  
“You jackass!” Roxas is already yelling. “What are you still doing here!?”  
  
Riku wipes a smear of blood from his lip. He speaks through tightly clenched teeth. “What?”  
  
“You’re just going to let him go? Like this!?”  
  
“What else am I supposed to do? I can’t stop him.”  
  
“That’s not the point, you fuckwit!” Roxas shoves him in the shoulder. “Do you even _care_ that he’s leaving!?”  
  
“Of course I do!” Riku shouts, surprising even himself with the volume.   
  
“Then _tell_ him that!”  
  
He laughs though his nose. “How  am I supposed to even face him? After everything?”  
  
“Yeah, you’re right,” Roxas huffs. “You’re a selfish bastard. The slimiest scum of the earth I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. But the thing is, that doesn’t fucking matter.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“If you’re sitting here thinking you’ve ruined everything and that Sora will never forgive you, you’re wasting your time. That idiot forgave you a long time ago.”  
  
“What makes you so sure?”  
  
Roxas pulls a hand down his face. “Well… when you love someone, it’s really easy to forgive all of their mistakes. All of their faults. You want to see them better themselves, even when it hurts you in the long run.” Riku’s clueless expression only makes Roxas angrier. “And yes, numbnuts, for _whatever reason_ , my idiot cousin loves you.”  
  
Riku stares at him in stunned silence.  
  
Roxas narrows his glare. “Now get the fuck up and _fix this_. Or I swear Axel will be bailing me out of jail a second time today.” He doesn’t elaborate. He only storms out of the apartment.  
  
Axel watches him go with a slick smirk. “Damn.”  
  
Riku is still too shocked to say anything at all.  
  
“That’s my Roxy,” Axel chuckles, “solving problems the only way he knows how: with violence and threats of bodily harm.”  
  
“Get the hell out of here,” Riku glares.  
  
He appears to ignore it, but turns for the door anyway. “Remember what we talked about. Get your shit together. Because I don’t want to see Sora ugly-cry ever again.”  
  
“Get out!” he yells at Axel’s back and slams the door shut after him.  
  
It’s dead quiet. And suffocating.  
  
Riku swears in the silence. He knows what he has to do.  
  
  
.  
  
  
Suddenly, everything Sora has ever done makes sense. All the sacrifice. All the bullshit he’s put up with for so long. His nearly limitless patience with Riku’s equally limitless stupidity.  
  
But there _is_ a limit to his patience. That’s why he’s giving up. Or, rather, he’s _already_ given up. He gave up months ago. He’s only been pretending this whole time. Acting like nothing has changed so he could… try to remember why he cared so much in the first place.  
  
Did it even work? Riku doesn’t know, but he _needs_ to. This can’t really be the end, right? He has to at least try. He won’t let it go like this.   
  
So he drives to Sora’s shared student housing. His housemates must be gone. The lot is deserted. That’s fine. The spare key is still hidden on top of the left porch column, and Riku uses it without hesitation. There’s music inside. Sora’s room is farther in.   
  
He’s packing his things and listening to some kind of depressing music playlist at full blast. He didn’t even hear the front door open. But Riku could hear him from the entrance, singing along to a Yellowcard song at the top of his lungs.  
  
Good lord. He’s such a dork.  
  
The song drifts away, and Riku speaks through the quiet: “I swear, you cry as much as a Disney Princess.”  
  
A stack of clothes explode out of Sora’s arms. “Riku!” he gasps. “What the heck are you doing here!?”  
  
He moves to sit on the edge of the bed through the opening notes of another song. Sora mutes it. There’s nothing to do but cut straight to it. “I don’t want you to go.”  
  
Sora’s eyes soften, face melting back to an indifferent mask. “I know,” he mumbles, and goes back to rummaging through his dresser. “But I have to. I can’t commute an hour to uni.”  
  
He’s not sure what else he expected. “Yeah… I guess not.”  
  
“I promise to call. Every day if you want. And I’ll visit on weekends to make sure you’re okay.”  
  
“You’re not leaving because of me, are you?”  
  
Sora sighs. “I already told you, I really like their program, and I never planned on staying here forever.”  
  
“Promise me you’re not lying. Please, Sora. You deserve to leave with the truth. Because I think… through all of this bullshit, your acting has gotten so good, you’ve even fooled me.”  
  
A strange half-smile comes over his face. “Yeah, I’ve had a lot of practice.” Almost four straight months of it. “I’m worried that I might’ve lost my authenticity.” His fingers tighten around a sloppily folded shirt. “I’ve been planning this for a long time. Really. I just… never told you.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I thought… well, maybe you wouldn’t care… or maybe you’d ask me to stay, and then I’d cave and stay like I _always do_ ,” his voice cracks like glass. “But Riku, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand around and watch you destroy yourself. It’s like I’m watching you turn into someone I don’t know.” He throws the shirt haphazardly into the open suitcase. “I miss… the way things used to be. I miss it all the time. These last few weeks with you have only made that feeling stronger. It’s kinda painful, really…. So, would it be alright if we just… went back? Before university? Before any of this even started?”  
  
“Before I screwed everything up?” he scoffs. “I wish for it every day.”  
  
Sora’s arms drop. He stares intently into the empty dresser drawer. “So, we can? You don’t think it’s annoying, or boring, right? You don’t actually hate me?”  
  
“Sora, out of all the horrible decisions I’ve made in my life, picking you for a friend was definitely not one of them. I really don’t know how you put up with me. I don’t deserve you at all.” Sora doesn’t turn around, and Riku slowly stands. “But, for whatever reason, you think I’m worth it. And… I _promise_ , I’m going to work as hard as I can to be someone who actually deserves your time. So… thank you, for everything. Please don’t give up on me.” Riku is standing close behind him now. There’s still no reaction. He only notices his hands are moving once they’re mere inches from grasping Sora’s arms. He hesitantly closes the distance, fingers curling gently against warm skin. “Please, Sora…”  
  
He heaves a quiet, trembling breath. “I would never give up on—” and he cuts himself off with a harsh little laugh. “Actually, I almost did.”   
  
“I know. I’m sorry.”  
  
Sora slowly turns back around, framed within Riku’s arms. There are tear tracks all over his face. “Almost,” he says. His smile is heartbreaking. He buries it in Riku’s shoulder and shudders uncontrollably.  
  
Riku holds him close and waits for the shaking to subside. It takes a few minutes. “You better not get snot on my shirt.”  
  
Sora sniffs loudly. “I won’t.”  
  
“Yeah, right. It’s already soaked through,” he smiles, ruffling the already unruly mane of brown hair. “Get it together, you dork.”  
  
He pulls in another loud, gross sniffle. Sora’s arms cling tighter to his back, and he murmurs into the wet fabric: “I’m in love with you.”  
  
And Riku has done nothing but abuse it. “I know.”  
  
Sora mutters a swear at Roxas. “But I still have to go.”   
  
“I know,” he repeats with a heavy sigh, and holds on tighter. “I’ll come see you all the time. And we’ll go out for ice cream or Korean food or whatever dumb movie you want to see. Anything. Anything you want. It’ll be real this time. Okay?”  
  
“You promise?” Sora squeaks. “Like pinky promise? Cross your heart?”  
  
“And hope to die.”   
  
  
.  
  
  
**End**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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_Epilogue) Devil Beside You_  
  
[So nice to meet you.  
I hope I never see your face again.]  
  
  
  
Roxas sees a familiar face at his usual coffee shop the next morning. A face he didn’t expect to see again. Vanitas sits in a far corner of the cafe, away from any windows, with a small mug in front of him. He’s leaning back in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He takes a sip of espresso and his face scrunches a little. Roxas chuckles and sits down across from him. “Rough morning?”  
  
Vanitas merely blinks at him. “Is it morning already?”  
  
That makes him pause. “Have you not slept?”  
  
“Does the triple espresso not tip you off?” he quips. Roxas can’t argue with that. Vanitas shifts in his seat and unsurprisingly bypasses all usual pleasantries: “By the way, I ran into your cousin while I was in town last spring. He’s precious.”  
  
Roxas grimaces. “See, it just sounds creepy when you say it like that.”  
  
“What else can I say?” he shrugs. “He’s soft and squishy.”  
  
He chooses to ignore that. “Yeah, he told me about running into you. Said he met a ‘scary guy’ at a bar that looked liked him.”  
  
Vanitas grins from behind his mug. “I had no idea he felt that way about me.”  
  
“That’s not a compliment.”  
  
“Isn’t it? I want people to fear me.”  
  
Roxas takes a drink of coffee to keep from responding.   
  
Vanitas sees right through it, and rolls his eyes. “Fear is just a way of respecting power. Remember that.”  
  
That’s… not terrible advice, actually. “Right,” Roxas nods. He doesn’t even try to hide his shock. “Wait, what about me? I’m not afraid of you.”  
  
“You’re different.” The mug meets the saucer with a soft clink. “We’re like kindred spirits.” Roxas isn’t entirely sure that’s a compliment, let alone a _good thing_. “We’re both creatures of the dark.  You may live in the daylight, but you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, or do what you have to… I respect that.”  
  
He takes a few seconds to mull over those words. “Thanks. I think.”  
  
Vanitas just shrugs and goes back to his espresso.  
  
There’s a short pause. Roxas doesn’t know what else to say. Except… There is something bothering him. The question has been gnawing at him for ages. “So, I’m just curious,” he starts, fiddling with the paper sleeve on his coffee cup. “Last spring, you said you were here to put someone in their place. I’ve lived here for two years… could it have been someone I know?”  
  
That smirk is downright wicked. “I guarantee it’s someone you know.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“I couldn’t let it slide,” Vanitas mutters, leaning onto the tabletop. “Listen, this place is my territory, so to speak. I can’t have some half-assed sleaze going around fucking everything up. Especially since he wasn’t even _good_ at it,” he scoffs. “ I had to put a stop to it. The only one that can be me is me.”  
  
Roxas takes a slow drink of coffee. “Ya know… I think I know who you’re talking about.”  
  
“It was Riku.”  
  
“That fucking idiot.”  
  
“Yes, he is,” Vanitas laughs. “Honestly, he was just _alright_ in bed.  Nothing special. But it really went to his head. There’s no way he’d ever be able to steal my act.”  
  
Roxas almost spits out his coffee. “Gross.”  
  
Vanitas is clearly enjoying that reaction. “Honestly, I was planning on fucking him up and leaving him in a ditch somewhere,” and he shrugs like that’s completely normal. “But the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” Roxas can only stare at him while imagining the mess that could-have-been. Vanitas takes a careful sip of his drink. “So, Blondie, tit for tat—I have a question for you: Were you the, quote, ‘yellow-haired pipsqueak’ that beat the ever-living _fuck_ out of Marluxia, to the point where’s he’s embarrassed to  even mention the fact that he laid your cousin out last spring?”   
  
His hands curl around the warm coffee cup. “He didn’t lay Sora out—it was an accident. But yeah… that was me.”  
  
Vanitas nods slowly. “Nicely done,” he smirks. “You’re a little scrapper.”  
  
Wait a second— Roxas squints. “Are you hitting on me?”  
  
“Should I be?”  
  
“Are you still _drunk_?”  
  
“Most likely,” and he has another long drink of espresso.  
  
“Yeah, finish that,” he points. “You need it.”  
  
Vanitas only laughs.   
  
Roxas sips his own coffee. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you left months ago.”  
  
“I did. Just passing through,” he says, “and checking up on things.”  
  
“Well, you haven’t missed much,” Roxas grumbles. “Two head wounds, amnesia, a break-up, and Riku is still a piece of human garbage.”   
  
Vanitas gives him a hard stare, and hums. “That ranges from ‘I’m sorry I missed it,’ to ‘who fucking cares,’ to ‘of course he is.’ Is he still blaming me for that?”  
  
“Probably,” he huffs. “But I have to admit… he’s getting better.”  
  
“Wow.” He clearly doesn’t mean it.  
  
“Why did you get so upset that he was trying to be like you? That seems like something you’d enjoy.”  
  
“There’s nothing I hate more than a fake,” Vanitas states, which explains his bizarre praise for Roxas’s reckless authenticity. “You can’t just _act_ like a heartless bastard, you have to _be_ a heartless bastard.  That idiot actually projected _feelings_ onto me. It was just sad.”  
  
Roxas does his best to not burst out laughing. “Oh, really?”  
  
A scowl twists his face. “Disgusting.  Killed my high and everything. I wish I could forget it.” Roxas can’t contain his scoff. “Speaking of which, it’s my turn for a question: Is it true that squishy cousin of yours has amnesia?”  
  
He chuckles into his coffee. “I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but… no. It isn’t true. I just found out a few days ago. He’s been faking it for months. He played us all for fools…”  
  
Vanitas leans back in his chair, a strange, hungry smile spreading across his face. “Impressive,” he laughs. “I didn’t know he could be so devious.”  
  
“None of us did,” he admits. “But I thought you hated fakes? You look… pleased, if not something worse.”  
  
“How am I supposed to know _why_ he did it?” he shrugs. Roxas supposes that makes sense. He’s still laughing as he takes another sip of espresso. “ Besides, playing an angle to get what you want is my routine. He could’ve made a decent opponent.” Then he clicks his tongue. “If only Riku weren’t so worthless—I could’ve gotten a piece.”  
  
“Please don’t touch my cousin,” Roxas mutters.  
  
“Oh? A please?” Vanitas winks from behind his mug.  
  
“You’d break him. Physically and mentally.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“And then I’d have to break _you—_ physically and mentally,” Roxas finishes with the most serious look on his face.  
  
Vanitas only laughs again. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Blondie. You couldn’t handle it.”  
  
He resists every impulse in his body and stifles a wince. His glare remains level.  
  
“Although, you shouldn’t be so surprised.” He takes one last gulp of espresso.  
  
Roxas tilts his head, questioning in silence.  
  
Vanitas shows his palms. “He’s a theatre kid, right? He was putting on a show every single time I met him. What makes you think you’re above his acting scheme?”  
  
“I guess that’s true.”  
  
“He could be formidable, if he wanted to be.” His laugh is nothing but breath. He plucks a worn pack of menthols from his back pocket. “Good thing he’s too soft for that.”  
  
Roxas can’t help but scoff. “Maybe.”  
  
He tucks a cigarette behind his ear as he gets to his feet. “Honestly, I have nothing against him. He was just collateral damage.”  
  
That brings the glare back to his face. “Wait a minute. What did you do?”  
  
Vanitas merely grins. “Hard to say. Probably nothing. It was all an act, remember?” He pulls a lighter from another pocket, testing it and ignoring Roxas’s hateful glances. “I’ve never met Sora. Not really, anyway. Only whatever facade Riku wanted him to wear.”  
  
Roxas wishes he could argue against that.  
  
Vanitas knows he’s got him, and decides to leave it at that. “Well, then. Thanks for the gossip. Maybe I’ll look you up the next time I’m in town.”  
  
“Please don’t.”  
  
“You don’t exactly have a say in it,” he smirks. “I have your name, Roxas. That’s all I need.”  
  
“I regret everything,” Roxas groans, and cranes his head back towards the ceiling.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t say anything else. He only chuckles as he leaves. Roxas watches him wince as he steps out into the bright summer sun, and wander off down the street with a cigarette between his lips.   
  
The silence creeps in, and Roxas tries putting some of the pieces together. The timing of Vanitas’s last visit… the purpose of it, and what he said happened… everything that happened with Sora… The longer Roxas sits there, the clearer things become. Vanitas is like the linchpin. It’s incredible that Roxas was able to run into him twice without incident. Especially since Vanitas appears to be dragging chaos behind him wherever he goes.   
  
He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t react to one of the cafe employees walking up to his table. She gestures quietly for his attention.  
  
“Mind if I take the empty one?” she points to the mug Vanitas left behind.  
  
Roxas just nods, staring blankly into thin air. “I think… I just had coffee with Cthulhu.”  
  
The worker laughs through her nose as she grabs the empty espresso mug. “Awesome.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Final Fantasy Fanfare* It’s finished! Oh my gosh. My heart.
> 
> A massive thank you to everyone that’s kept up with my nonsense all this time, and supported this ridiculous adventure! And uh. Hah. B-Plot got crazier than you thought it would, huh? Bless Roxas. 
> 
> I… actually don’t have too much to say? I’m more interested in what YOU guys have to say, because my part is DONE!  
> (I mean, I do have other landmarks of The Relationship mapped in my head, but they’re not important to the story I wanted to tell. Let’s just say that it’s gonna be sickeningly cute and really gay. You’ll wanna puke, I promise.)
> 
> By the way, the Yellowcard song that Sora was singing in the last scene was “Only One.” Because you totally asked.
> 
> Speaking of which, Chapter 8’s title is brought to you by Dashboard Confessional: “Vindicated.” Honestly the only song of theirs I like, even though they’re supposed to be “quintessential emo,” or whatever. Meanwhile, the Epilogue’s title is brought in by The Used: “Devil Beside You.” This genre is a little more punk-based, but still pretty emo. Leave me and my eyeliner alone, alright? Ch. 8 does have an alternate title, but it’s waaaay too normie. It’s “Happier.” 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around this long! It’s finally done! My next fic is going to be really dark and long and one I hold very close to my chest. My roommate and I have been planning it for literal years at this point… Good god. It’s not technically an AU, either. So that’s fun! Expect it soon!
> 
> Anyway! Final thoughts? Criticism? Are you ugly-crying? Or do you want to make me eat sand? You can always yell at me on twitter too (@VaniVeniVici).  
> I’m so excited that this fic is finally finished you guys have no idea. But I’m also kinda sad, because it’s over.
> 
> Ah, well. Until next time!


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